6.13.2005

from Way Stations:

           from a cave


Such a small voice,
I would not stop to hear;
the sun was going down, and
there were no houses near.


Such a strange voice,
whispering out of the ground –
familiar, though it seemed
unearthly, utterly profound.


Such a sweet voice,
twining my cavern ear;
a vine for water jars, when
all the wedding guests are here.

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