like a phantom of spring

LAMBENT PRESENCE

Slouched on the couch, Hobo is

near the shortest day.

Earth’s winter way,

making her rounds – stoic old Miz.

The river like a froze French drain

her Via Francigena makes

past dirt-bent snakes

of old St. Lou.  Where Jackson

Quick, somehow, came from – pilot

on Yankee hospital ship, 1863 –

late father of Jessie

O. (caught fever, like as not).

Full fathom five, Jessie, thy father.

Like Jenny’s mother, too,

huh?  Little tree (cedar

or yew).  See my ghost dance gather.

The natural round is in the clay

& waiting for that Last Day

each grieving soul will say

O help me turn another way.

This lambent presence in the window

like a phantom of spring.

Persephone, in a ring-

dance, leapt over the fire, so –

lifted by droning hum of living

& dead, out of clay

wheel, through the Gateway –

wave-crest prow, loafer’s Thanksgiving.

12.17.19