Sunday, December 27, 2009

Fall in the Hill Country

By Marian Aitches

Oh, you know how wrong
they were, the philosophers


It is the edge of the morning when
if you go out,
you feel you are interrupting
a sacred act,
creation maybe,
one of the days before humans bloomed
in a perfect garden.

Why you push open the cabin door,
see light rush among live oaks,
a herd of green horses
stamping their hooves in the spirit world.

The field beyond is pulsing
with something more than words,
alone in its rock-strewn beauty
except for one old maple
stirring in the wind across early sky

like a yellow river fluent
over burnt gold stones -
inhabits the world
the way you long to.

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