Earth Night

Now is the great night
     of the heart.

You sense the huddled

      mother's pelt

nestling seven coyote pups

      under dripping ferns.

                   You yelp and howl,

      then listen

to owl wings slice through silence,

      gong of raven's throat,


not the music

      you wished for

but the music you hear

     far after midnight,

                    long before dawn.

Keep vigil by the breathing river

      of your blood,

                    sheltered under

cedar spine,

      leaves of alveoli,

                     your flesh

a woolen warmth

       around its own bones.

Now let the hollowest

       space inside

be your other,

       your Comforter.

                     Rest here.


If you cannot hug

        the darkness

how can you bear the stars?