I.
Two gray hickories
naked and mournful
on the mountain’s pinnacle
An owl
perched
a silent sentinel
in one of the forked
branches
a jeweled moon:
gleaming
and reiterated
in the frozen amber
of the owl’s eyes
II.
Now the hour
is late
in the autumn
of my fear
My face
waver
like flame
My voice
trails off
into smoke
III.
Barely visible
that rusty homeless
sky, those splinters
of the Shenandoah
kneels to the wind’s
vespers.
IV.
Why does a man
go lonely
Post written by Brother Rick Wilson. His poems are from a forthcoming collection (2019): “New and Selected Poems: Bleeding, Bruises, and Blessings.”
