Viaticum

In the night I hear a deep
boom split the mountains 
for thunder 

Iron-struck
sparks wreath 
around horses' ankles

Tell the winged messengers
I am still on my knees collecting
tokens for passage

Grant me the hundred
years to wander here

Rain
fine as mist 

Hail like pearls
or pebbles

Foam or what
rises like yeast

Rain laughing 
like a fountain of seeds 
flung at weddings


 



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