Thinking about the fall lately and sure enough a 1001 items fall into me lap.
Somehow dreams are fun when a thought wakes us dreamy and wondering.
Something about not analyzing OR spiritualizing…but “Humanizing” …thus removing constraints…a sort of refining matter.

The drone
The cicadian drone
In the heat of evening mist
Heavy handed
Thunder from the bloom
Hummed through a comb
Of feathered fecundity
The song
The song
The Song of Songs
Holds us here
Believing in the unnamed spheres
Hinted at through blatant gestures
Stumbling childlike on the breaded path
Standing all anew
Upon the rock at water’s edge
To stretch
To arch
To face the Countries of the Summer Skies
While calling for the fire-like tendons
Once again to rise
And climb again the spinal structure to the stars

I no longer sing the Song of Songs
But lean upon logistics of creation’s cooing in the night
And swear by all the former tenets of the moon
To wait
Again
And again
And again
To fill these empty thighs with God