After The Fall
Leaves change and fall, wind sweeps.
Lounging on the ground at the park,
Not too cold to dream, he falls asleep.
Soon the setting sun recalls the dark.
Night, like winter, tells a kind of death.
Then firelight illumines the Gospel of Mark.
Seeing disbelief in every breath,
The miracle is in the spring beginning
Despite the damn’d in evils to top Macbeth.
Then summer comes as certain as the sinning.
Dense air chokes a dull confession
And lightning gathers warmth into the raining.
He wakes from this, his dream of darkest seasons.
Happy now, relieved of all but reason.