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Some Days

Grace and Peace to you.

It's early spring in these woods,

bare trees like quiet old women

wearing little girls' green things.

But in the cities, silence, and grief.

Some days

I want to lie down in ignorance,

deep in the not yet green grass,

bury my face in the cold unknowing dirt,

not seeing more than a foot or two,

that's all I want to see.

I get down there just to look

and the brook flows on,

I can hear it, and overhead

long haul geese passing by

on their way north,

farther north than I imagine,

where spaces open out

in a different kind of quiet,

and even the small birds nearby

in the shifting trees

above the prayerful grass

sing on and on.

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