selah (a poem)

selah

in maine’s late november,
the asters are straw,
the comfrey has fallen.
they have entered into his gates with thanksgiving.

          she sits in a desert with the cactus flowers
          and dreams of green grass

the pasture glints frosted
beside the salt river,
hiding its treasures.
they have entered into his gates with thanksgiving.

          she sits in a desert with the cactus flowers
          and dreams of green grass

the wood for the fire
is gathered and ready,
like the feast on the table.
they enter into his gates with thanksgiving.

          she sits in a desert with the cactus flowers
          and dreams of green grass

in the virtual sagebrush
we compare vegetations,
the scars from our clearcuts.
they have entered into his gates with thanksgiving.

          she sits in a desert with the cactus flowers
          and dreams of green grass

what if she sees a man beside a spring,
comes running,
and finds only me and a dry well?

   - O Ceallaigh

Copyright © 2006 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.

All opinions are mine as a private citizen.