A fleece of milky rain

KIND FARE

Like a brown wren building a nest

with twine camouflage,

or a Joan in the Stone Age

on her inexplicable quest

to sketch the lineaments of splendor

(milky star-field in a barn

or Jason with a ball of yarn)

– how the sea calls Jonas under!

The booming surf his Book of J,

the figure on the prow

with heavy eyes... mild Io?

coaxing him to low brown clay

in gloom, beneath an ancient bridge...

where a rose may lie.

An olive shade skims by

overhead (a palm sweeps its edge).

Between bullhorns, he marks the twain.

Gaunt Maximus, in Colchis,

ancient of days (his

beard like a fleece of milky rain)

burbles an almond-scent breeze

he feels, not sees... melting

aria of everything,

snow-knot of spring (Persephone’s).

Like high sea-gates in sunlight, in salt air...

feathers of jasper & bronze

filigree one true coin’s

moss-green (Lincoln mite... kind fare).

4.21.16