LUMBERING FLIGHT
This April sunset behind the trees,
like a rose & phosphorescent
robin’s egg. Fundament
of natural radiance; architectural breeze.
On Île-de-France, in the river Seine
a throng of men & women
flung boulders toward heaven –
to celebrate the feast of their communion
& the miraculous feat of that
lumbering flight. The chill
granite yawn in the hill
where the dead man lay (requiescat)
like a counterweight to their primordial
joy – its hollow barrow
(familiar dank & narrow
room) will serve as reconciling grail
when we have gathered for the wedding
in the flowery vale of Cana,
& amid the hubbub-haha
Mary murmurs – Now, my son, bring
out the wine... We will not build
another Notre Dame.
& yet our rivers are the same.
The Rio del Espiritu Santo is filled
with rosmarine passion of light –
invisible, unchanging,
radiant, enlightening
fiery indomitable apex bright.
4.22.19
