A Suggestion of Stairs

Clear as a mountain spring Water flowing on gravity’s call Cutting paths down through Birch trees standing Green and white against Heaven’s blue.

Sometimes our way is Blocked with Ancient stones set so Flat and still Upon the drying plain They mark the way or Sing false time’s song.

The push and pull Of clattering distraction Brings memories of Long ago when We were not So easily lost Between The beginning And the end.

Found yet not We seek a scent Of sensual clarity; Out past this aging arrow; A broken bow beset Among hidden horizons.

And I remember those eyes And their strength And the weeping trees, with dark clinging branches, And the silent light, Fading from view.

And there! A suggestion of stairs A hint of hope A moment of soft grace; And stars above whirl Like dervishes moved By unseen hands.