Mid morning at my april desk
emerging from unsettled rest
I thought how odd that dropping
the pebble God into a poem
raises such a stir and then I thought, I heard
how that effect makes me want to whisper yet
beyond all meaning and regret
God and more God God God God God God
and suddenly I thought of crows in their tennebrae
and how they rose when I was a child in an infinite clatter and wildness
and scuttled the sky
with caws no! It was God as they arose God God God God
through all november and no one knows we got the coding wrong of their too
brazen song
and that perhaps the raven blue black as ink guards us ever from the brink
the flood in its plum dark beak and fused
speaking God God God into the mists and into the abyss
where we have forgotten his name and God God God summoning the rains the
stars the distance where You ARE
light as we become our winter selves again the crows
scattering bituminous diamonds half made in haste and
over our sleep. That we might remember Him.
mary angela douglas 15 april 2020
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