This is days to come
Nothing is going to change;
not any time soon.
Take it slow,
take it quiet and slow,
let this new early darkness
Those bare branches, wet and black,
show full moon rising
pale and milky
in the ink sky,
swirling clouds like gauze
etched with rings of rainbow
and distances are spread wide, gaping, yawning, not closable.
So be still.
God knows the score, he settled it.
knows the ins and outs of physics,
created it. He
gets the loop hole
of miracles more poignant and painful and serene and hopeful and buried deeper than we can see,
knows. And we wait with Him
on this mad and fruitful plane, we hold
and count the days, we
we are God’s strength; we
There are sly moments passing into one another,
breathing through the canopy
of hopes and dreams, little dappled
across the plumpness of a smooth cheek,
a shiny eyed peach.
The pitch of frostbitten
finds it’s colors in our
fingers tracing on the falling leaves,
we take our time
to find the hidden
as the grass bends under
the zephyr. We
catch our breath, our
hearts from beating too fast as we
sense the work of the detritus, what short work they make of
So tonight we’ll
talk with Hamlet and Ophelia and we’ll
wait out the winter coming, soothing ourselves
Just be still for now, no yearning.
Just let the absence in, let
hollow winds to seek out
what is lost be found again. We
have no end. So November, I forgive you.
The original This is Days to Come is here.