The Mother Tongue October 18th, & 27th, 2015
Would that I speak with the tongue of Nature
That washes down the kits and calves
That sends the red leaves down
Gold and green and red leaves down
And whispers lovely nothings
Into the ear of God.
The other night
The wind blew through the heavy cedars
And the looming angel maples
Next morning
My curling street was carpeted with gold
Tree gold has the odor of incense
I've noticed it before
Filling my lungs with the air of prayer,
Moving through
The trees
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