Along Path P

INFANT BROW

At the crossroads, the just man suffers

just for being just –

Job, or Boethius,

or Jesus – carrying a load for others.

Dante whispers in Ravenna dusk

near his exile’s end.

Beatrice, penned

in a rose window, sets his task –

to sing the icon that he sees

breathing through granite

as turtledoves through light

gray feathers tune the breeze.

Stillness in time.  Iron history

crowns an infant brow...

the Son of Man, now

turning evergreen (in Maggie’s

almond eye).  The desolations

of a nightmare fade

when that rusty parade

sinks into brown decades (stations

on the prairie).  Mary Morning Star

signals her six ways

along Path P...  Praise

Manitou & Manitou-Child, our

big-eared Bunny Rabbi – he

of the octave melody –

which we sang, Adonai,

before dawn, one Epiphany...

4.11.16