birds are scattering songfrom high branches this morning,like berries for the faithfulit falls light and unanswerable, falls trill and pulse andwing purr melody,falls sweet likewell-tongued prayerson the lips of the holy. it calls us to deer paths and mud pathsand roots among the moss paths,calls us to the silent ways of fallen leaf –calls us…
branch shadows darker than dust etch trees on the glass of the morning room, outside the stillness is shaped by birdsong and the billowing of spidersilk catching light. inside all but the cats are sleeping.