In The Old Plot Today

Nothing new in the old plot today:

No warmth, no awe, no sprouts;

Nothing at all in

The dawn-gold orchard,

The ladder-high skies,

The dumb-today rock.

 “Nothing will of nothing come…”

Is the whisper in my ear.

Nothing, indeed, from the

Dumb-today rock, the

Quiet, silver peaches of the moon.

Some days my elusive muse

Is a moody bitch-goddess vampire.

Sometimes I just don’t care.