Petham

1.Earth waits:beneath my feether sleep of yearsseeps through melike molten mist that sticks. Land slips:from hill to valetrees drop goldenrain of leaves; a winter coronetupon my musing head. Earth breathestwelve billion yearsto come to this:a horse’s snortthe pheasant’s flight a call of owlin fading light,& I have sight to seeto comprehendif only for a whisper. Yes now I feelhow it might bewhen earthawakes:speaks to me. Colliding nebulaof need falls away.here I am bathedin hibernation’ssacred sleep: while Earth waits.