September 19, 2011

[Quiet Waves / September 2011]

God’s

Breath

Moves down from mountains

Heavy and soft

Speaking in tongues

Rain on trampled grass

Thick fog among leaves.



There are no words

Audible

Or calculations

Etched here by crippled hands

No—

But some dare to sleep

While the river flows on.



Frayed questions

Swirl away

From

An anchored ship

Listening

For

Quiet waves in the tide.

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