Winter Sky

 
 
 
Straw sky
Westerly
Moonless, Sunless, Starless
Leaveless trees point gnarly fingers
to the heavens
deepening into darkness.
 
Frayed and tattered demons
Lucid praying
A feeling beyond touch
Beyond fear or sadness
A feeling unlike hope
Without reason
Formless
Yet delineated
Like constellations
 
I make motions with my hands,
move my skin into contact
with ineffable realms.
Move, oozing miasma.
Creating signs in faint luminescence.
Bit by bit they encompass
the night’s horizon.
 
But there is more.
It comes to me in brief emanation.
Droning, encircling, swooping in and out.
I organize a study chamber.
Pull out maps and ruler.
Set my quill to taking notes.
Images engaged in excited conversation
pull me in to their heady company.
 
I can feel the sky breaking around me.
Bits of colored prisms falling.
Make a wish.
.
.
.
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