signs and wonders


An oddly auspicious confluence of events-
three padlocks on the road,
a black cat crossing my path,

three large black crows,
leading me all the way to our door,
an owl
peering from the ledge into the bedroom window,
backlit by the waning gibbous moon.

An intimate conversation
at the bar. She a sweet acquaintance,
shyly telling me of the healer
that drew the demon snake from her breast.
He held it out for her to see,
a glimpse of the shadow of a serpent,
drifting into dust motes swirling out the open window
into the moonless night.

The angel leaning on the lamppost
in a good friend’s poem
From writings of another poet,
a triad of angels watching from a hayloft.

Signs and wonders,
the rending of fabric,
the anticipation of a visit,
the expectation
of another
conversation with the angel,
the sound of wings,
an acclamation of doves,
a rapture.

For goodness sake

October evening 2

Wheeling across the sky,
a murmuration of starlings and
the souls of the dead
to defend the stars
as they fall,
turning on that great wheel
of the chariot.
(Swing low,
fill my mouth with words
of wonder and delight
that they may sing to the sparrows
and the great horned owl
as he passes judgment on all we have done before.
Will this circle be unbroken in the time we have left?
Will our hours and minutes
lay across the calendar pages, clean and pristine
as the January snow and the lambs of springtime
that skip merrily to slaughter?
Shall we gather at the river- the long road home to glory?
What shall we forsake,
for goodness sake,
at the rising of the wind?