Thursday, July 10, 2008

at temple rock

watery wrinkles moving in the space ahead
so close i could touch them...
where nothing seems to be
something just... is
like grace

...and so you must be here with me
standing on an old texas hillcountry road
on a breathless, starry summer night
with rock and cedar as temple and witness
and the low trill of a screech owl for a psalm

1 comment:

just another duck on the pond said...

actually this poem isn't finished yet but this much wants to stand alone for awhile...