Lyric V

 

 

who beckons from your god-pathed sky?

 

whose oak's slow splay of black lightning

sky-whirled branches holding up a world?

 

who will be warmed by this fire you tend          

hidden bare flame

that is naked gods?

 

who saturates your sunset?

 

this earth must be loved for it to ripen us

our skin taught with the outwardness of our wishes

 

whose fingers through your pale fields and living streams

lips to every wet petal of your red poppies

every rush and wind’s caress of your voice

every gasp taken in sun’s light made soft touch?

 

who shall tread with you in sun’s steps?