Bird voices find the wind
speaking in tongues.
The trees shake off the night,
stretches a little closer to the sky.
The clouds shed their tears,
the memory of water,
a rainstick takes us deeper
into the cathedral of sound.
Peace comes dropping slow.
12/20/2017
Winter Solstice
A MADRIGAL FOR THE MILLENNIUM
Last time
This is the last poem I will ever write with John
This is also the last time I saw John alive.
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