Like the Embers

Fierce red light beaming down

From somewhere near-to-God

Walks across the audience and

We glow like the embers that

Ring the eyes of a hunting harrier.

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A Different Pulse.

High, clean wind;

Low-tide water.

here we are,

Walking a thin, hopeful

Line of bare-fertile soil

Between the shore

And Heaven;

Piling smooth stones

One atop the other –

On bedrock –

To hold the

Coming storms away:

Feeling a

Different pulse.