Whippoorwill Sky

The great curving cradle Always looms overhead Covering our frail losses With abrupt stained views Out windows leaving Judgments behind.

Indifferent to our pain; Yet always there asking For nothing but recognition Darkling moon masks nearby Memories prickly like Thorns on brown woody stems.

Thick air cool enough to touch And carry supple sounds To us unbidden A plate too full of sudden silence And rival words woven In uncommon knowledge.

Sometimes eager time Offers hope in small things; One by one we build Our lives on seeds of memory The twine wrapped tight — Strong hands reach out Our hearts outrace A makeshift mind.

Yellow rose of evening Held in gentle hands While thoughts hover near; The distant bird voices Promise and hope In loving branches The tree of life abides.

The sun tempts night yields Yonder gate ever open Face futures unfolding; Warm-hearted and free In the bright Whippoorwill sky.