MOSAIC WELL
On the snow path between bridges
the sun squints beneath
clouds; twin hawks unsheath
talons, whirl over river’s edge
(aerial wrestle-dance). Winter sky
slows the flow down,
frozen. Last windblown
oak leaves sail the bone-dry
ground. Yet in another age
innocent gold honey
fed the sons of Zebedee
from almond lips of Nazir-sage –
his eagle-crow, accompanied
by flutes & turtledoves.
The knot of shackled loves
in your Knossos-heart are freed
when crystalline snow-light, like salt
shines through the octagon
of your mandorla – son
& father, sister mother & daughter melt
into one mead-measure of fire
& the smile of Manitou
mirrors an arc for you –
primordial apse of Apollinaire.
Whorled vortex of the shepherd’s roam
reveals a human face
in that holy place –
mosaic well from kingdom come.
12.8.16
