Saturday, July 21, 2018

Its face turned from the sun,
Earth hugged us as we lay.
Sleeping bags and tent
were cocoons and cave 
where bodies could hold 
against the cold,
where within thin walls
dark felt finite.

Birds called,
waking one another.
Earth’s far cheek
grew gray,
silver, pink.

Night’s womb gone,
we sat along
a sloshing creek.
Coffee cups steamed.
We offered incense 
in the continuing
coupling of Earth and Sun.


June 2, 1987