W

 

In the beginning was the Word, and you are the word’s beginning,

          the heart of awe.

 

You lead the wren and follow the crow.

You are the start of all the moon’s moves:

          wax, wane, wobble.

 

I saw you in yellow, smelled you in sandalwood.

We went out on the town, drank whisky and good well water;

we ate chicken with brown sauce.

You wet my towel when I swim and make me sweat when I walk.

You changed me from girl to woman, wife; you’ll stay with me all my days of work; you’ll leave me a crone.

 

You are the start of the Way and the end of the Law

but you’re just the middle of the sidewalk.

You frame every window and the “writer’s room with a view.”

You take your cry from the whip-poor-will

          and your dance from the will-o-wisp.

You are the white wolf of winter and the warblers of spring.

 

Center of the jewel but not the lotus,

          what questions do not start with you

          or how do they not end with you?

 

Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside