Matins - Poem
Ned CondiniFirefly spirit & undying breath
who live where the intellect is darkest
where every cry descends into peace
with ended days, grasses and pallid faces
do not leave me now that I understand
how few more years I will walk in the light.
Shade covers a good part of me; it routs
things into dust, if I stretch my hands out.
Today you are only that breath of my dust.
As to still fronds in the hot, sultry nights
from the air an unexpected murmur sighs
words yet from the springwell of my dreams
I know you bring me before dawn. But day
can't find them, and I don't recognize you.
COPYRIGHT 2000 Commonweal Foundation
COPYRIGHT 2000 Gale Group