Dear Reader,
With the season of advent arriving this Sunday I thought it fitting to share with you this poem—a roundabout exploration of hope, peace, joy, and love—those qualities just out of reach in our tattered and weary world.
Enjoy!
ADVENTUS
Breath, like pipe smoke,
twists and turns
in the cold December air.
And while the moon
sets its will against the sun
I wait for that
sudden burst of joy,
liminal and illusive,
like the last steps
of a long hike
when you set down your pack
and marvel at
the miles moved.
****
Its the soft whine of the M
as it rumbles out of sight,
trudging across the skyline
like Apollo chasing the moon.
And just as it turns
to descend beneath the depths,
it sits quiet as if waiting,
waiting for some fool
to join its merry band
as it tunnels under the sun.
***
Who knew a few feet
could feel like a mile
and the space between our lips
like a canyon chasm wide.
You filled these nooks and crannies
with the subtle scent of love—
lilac and juniper
and early morning mist.
***
Calling to no one,
the finch chirps away,
drowned out now
by the wail of sirens
and the deluge of voices
who call this city home.