“death is the last wonder” D. H. Lawrence
two herons and I sit in vigil
their wings folded love letters
here on creek edge, currents
drag us towards helpless
I’m imprinted by the weight of kisses
all those coupling passions of lonely
those yearnings for gardens with
boughs of perfumed roses arching
towards sunlight
the extravagances of small birds
I’m just the black swan of crucifixion
suspended in air shot through
with the pulse, the pitch
of chants Gregorian
when at last beat of heart
the soul expands
our gamma rays will surge
will sweep away
all those contradictions
each day I dig the earth
I plant
I learn each day
new lessons in the
art of dying
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