Furious optimism

What bell shakes the rooftops? – It

seems there is less time for things that matter

and more matter unearthing riots, here; --

these Celibate angels and Spies are Crying  – What

form of a Woman

are you to extend to me your utterances

alighting on a tall tree-branch? – Have

you installed in your

spine’s Arch a knowing inclination?

Inching toward the fire’s Edge

we are warmed to You, you

who would hold out to us

your subtle graces and shattering

     instinct -- We

wonder at Constellations

our Feet poised for a new equilibrium

     counting

the hours to our Communion,

      hearty, breathless --