All Things Considered
pitcher of light awaits sage and summer
savory. All puns are planted to present
these things as if saying were enough
to conjure the perfect illusion illuminated.
nadir of deepest darkness, the small
Moon of Long Night turns to beam
over the orchard above the frozen lake.
its breath, biding its time until released
to start once more in utter clarity of cold.
In that perilous moment before cycles
start up again, we all can fall through
cracks. Interstices of ice drag us down.
We grope from dusk to dark to light.
We slip between stars, drawn out
beyond what we know, considering,
considere, to be with the luminary.
Night rustles outside our window, murmurs
and squeaks. Whimpers follow outraged
raccoon yowl. Orange and black streak
across the dark pane I can’t see through
conjuring night creatures’ obscured world,
Scent leads a trail to territorial war, deep
enmities nurtured throughout the long wee
hours before dawn lifts that velvet cloth to
reveal grey, seeping shade back to clarity.
The last lines of this poem were first published in from Dream Sequins, Lyrical Myrical Press, with drawings by the brilliant Steven McCabe. See his gorgeous https://poemimage.wordpress.com/.