Wednesday, June 16, 2010


on a crazy summer afternoon maybe on a porch behind a screen in front of the rain you can hear the cicadas sing ... or was that yesterday ... or the week before ... only the other day it was the end of winter and the gull on the beach sang the lord's praise ... I know what it said ... I know the sound of it ... I hear it all over ... what though it was a direction wasn't it to the meeting house to tell the lord's praise ... the monks in the library the clerks at the display muted momentous they say it the same way ... written encoded engraved ... deals made explanations apologies long overdue are now given ... ah at last this question has an answer ... this was what I meant meant to say at the start ... I said listen ... don't you hear in the autumn of october ... I tell you in this night the dead leaves themselves sing it ... the wind moves and the withered sap cries out in the gratitude of spring ... the fullness of summer ... god's praise

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