Cup of Tea

Could you bring me a cup of tea?
And sit with me for a few short moments?
The view through the window reveals
The dulcet pasture
Now vacated by the cattle
Now the domain of squirrels
Secreting hickory nuts.
They are manic!
Or perhaps just being squirrels
Flush with the wealth of the mast?

I will place my hand,
Warm from the cup,
On the soft skin on the back of yours,
Knuckles and sinews
Stories of your days
Some of which I know
As I was there with you.

An empty cup
Signals the end of this moment,
Something will call you off:
 to tend to a chore,
 to empty your mind
 or to refill it.

The pasture will call me back,
there's a bird at the feeder...
As a gust of wind
Rattles the window panes.

Black Vultures

I am in my hidey-hole
and I'm waiting for the speaking world
to call to me
I know it does
at least it always has
the rain and the ravens
black vultures too
as they pass by sky high
and then return circling easily
I see them again and they see me
I know they are speaking
wing against wind


I knew a dog once
who was sick I think
or maybe injured
the world will kick you and
take you down
It is bigger and meaner
she might have said
and this dog was my dog
and she would crawl under the house
into her small sanctum cell
a dark sanctuary
when she could take no more


I am in my retreat now
dog-like
I may take a trusted hand
and follow
but I cannot take that next step alone or at all
nor lead nor love beyond
this small world of wounds
and into
this battlefield of unimaginable loss


there is no god
and I find myself praying to her
to open my ears
and let me hear.