F °" THIS RITUAL I Pray Less Each Day Last night I slept in frustration And woke in anger At too early an hour. Going outside to let The cool morning breeze Wash some of the anger From me I watched the robins, Early morning diviners Of subterranean movement, Peck living nourishment From the earth. And I thought of how Nature sleeps in contentment And wakes in anticipation, And of how the earth Sustains. If there is to be faith, At all, Plant it firmly, Here, in the earth To sustain the body, The soul can never truly Know sustenance Nor ever have peace, An unrelenting will Beyond comprehension Condemns it. Death For The Robins It would be cold today The snow behind the wind Means death for the robins. These winters sustain no one. I took a last searching look At the sky No great sign appeared, No suddeness flashing redemption Nothing but the grey dawning Of a meager morning The only portent a possible storm. I felt empty like the sky, It was cold and too early And I needed sleep. But this is the season, The time of migrations When life is stirred To seek salvation. I went inside. ... You came back to me last night In a dream But made love to someone else While I stood by and watched. You delighted in disdaining me In this way, And afterwards laughed and drank champagne, Toasting me, with your lover, Amusing him with stories from another, Broken dream. Then assembling a crowd you stood naked And committed the final betrayal, You confessed to the existence Of the map Outlinihg the only way back, Handing over to them that last chance I tried to fight through To stop you But as always I was-too late And I woke into the cold, alone Something lifted Into the hollowness of the morning I had begun my ritual It was not much But enough for a cold morning. It was quiet in my room And I watched the vapor rise From my cup of tea Vaguely thinking some beginnings Do start this way. You may never come again In the night. And I may remain stranded. I Take Less On Faith All living things are mortal Robins are living things Therefore robins die. More Has To Be Confirmed I thought about the snow First the snow That came suddenly, Silently, during the still Night hours ... The white sun found our town covered Its early rays winter heavy Sunk deep, absorbed into the silent snow, Linking earth and heaven. And I a child from window sill reflected On this clean white world And these radiant links Beaming with excitement I knew In my young heart these were the smiles Of our Blessed Lady, Shining in the early morning, Scolding her naughty angels, last night's snow makers The rain pitting Against the tin roof outside My window Broke into the poem, The forecasted storm had arrived I went to the window To watch my robins, They stood like uncertain statues Not knowing what to do In the rain. The sky had not lightened much, It was low and thick. My thoughts returned To the snow No longer whitely silent, But that will come fiercely, Howling winter's meaness, Severing life froth earth. The house is colder, This ritual darker, Yet for the moment My robins and I Are lucky, This storm brings only rain And we can continue To peck At the earth That each day Hardens. ... Chdstivis- M She chases the sun south In h It is the season. The withering weather already Works its way deep inside. Slowly each damp day thicken The ground grown cold harden As does her heart The chill icing through.
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