Gardens
.
The sky is indifferent to this corner,
While another ecology watches over
The intricacies of winter’s web.
.
Horizons are born here,
And will shine,
One last time,
Into a still gaze of stone.
.
Surely these things will linger.
.
We might be free then,
Sitting in the fading wind,
And sun.
At last.
While our shames fade
Into temples of silence.
.
No turning away,
No denial,
The great sweep of time,
Will gather this all up,
And bring us home
Once again.
Shaken Rain 