HUNTER’S GLOVE
Gray world, wind washing rain across
the enormous limestone crevasse
down River Road. Slant layers
of pre-Cambrian scrawls (wrinkles
of periwinkles, snails, seashells)
pre-date the hieroglyphs –
those Isis-&-Osiris skiffs
loaded with already-hoary piles
of Horus-eyes, gold scarab beads...
Cottonwoods like willows here –
divining rods bent to the River’s
imperturbable Runnymede.
The stream’s a mobile parallax.
One touch of tuning fork
will resonate through stark
tenebrous time-caverns – axe-
marks of Raven shadow Dove
into a treasure-trove
of hunter’s glove (apes
channel fright to constellation-love).
I would sound that iron undertone
down through the catacomb
of trench-war years – hum
Psyche-Wisdom’s will be done,
track Ariadne’s thread, from Chartres
to Notre Dame, from Magna
Carta to the Frisco Bay –
where Lady knots her safety net.
12.10.15
