SUDDENLY THERE IS NO ONE LEFT I WISH TO TALK TO
Suddenly there is no one left I wish to talk to,
The click of feathers and hollow bones,
The bird away, the dog excited.
The air heavy with rain
and in this place where no breeze blows,
no breeze blew.
Listen:
the branches of the great trees are talking to each other,
their leaves folding into one another,
and the moon slips behind a clash of consonants,
a sudden lurch of lightning
and after a day of heat and sunlight,
night comes with water
and wind.
the branches of the great trees are talking to each other,
their leaves folding into one another,
and the moon slips behind a clash of consonants,
a sudden lurch of lightning
and after a day of heat and sunlight,
night comes with water
and wind.
Sit outside with me a moment.
You can finish your chores tomorrow.
Tonight is a time for the movements of air,
a dialogue of branches,
the conducting of clouds,
and if we get wet, no matter,
I am in your debt.
You can finish your chores tomorrow.
Tonight is a time for the movements of air,
a dialogue of branches,
the conducting of clouds,
and if we get wet, no matter,
I am in your debt.
Michael H. Brownstein's new chapbook, Firestorm: A Rendering of Torah has just been released by Camel Saloon Press: http://booksonblog35.blogspot.
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