tomorrow

church bells

a festival

a woman

singing

soul and flesh in

a single ecstasy

tapping at the window

a curious bird or

a friend coming by or

a branch in the wind?

stretched legs

from hips to toes

a woman

letting

go of tension

a turning ceiling fan

sweetness in the air   

a gift for us or

for some other species or

for sweetness itself?

a new coin tossed

shining in her hand

and dare she look

at fate in her palm?

at unplucked berries  

warm in the sun?

I had an oracle

[[ It starts with a reductive yammer on life and then switches to a favorite theme of mine, Bede's sparrow. The first half is written in short chunks to be sung line by line, each almost independent of the lines before and after it. Then a shift to longer lines, slower rhythm, and all of it is the reported speech of the oracle. "She said..." ]]

I had an oracle 

tell it to me:

past, present, future --

all she could see.

There wasn't much,

all much the same.

We're all alike.

It's all a game.

I'll live and die,

and, in between,

be a regular guy.

Be a regular guy.

She said 

there was a sparrow

flew in one window

of a great hall,

a feast before a fire.

She said 

there was a sparrow

warm for a moment

in the fire light

and flew across the room.

She said 

there was a sparrow 

there for the moment,

that space of time,

then out another window and gone.

I had an oracle 

tell it to me:

past, present, future --

all she could see.