Between Now and Not Yet

Night rain, now the sky is drying its wings, Moths come to rest, on the dry shadows of damp tree. There is a fine dust in the warming air, as if minuscule insects were combing out the tangled hair of stone angels. In the green graveyards of tomorrow lovers embrace the earth, for even deep within the - not yet, the world will still be breathing sweetly, to keep God alive. When I was a young and light of weight the stars attracted me. I considered them far, far away. Even so, some days gravity rested to dry its heavy wings. then a multitude of suns descended just low enough, for me to see my face in their light.