Dreaming a Hurricane

The hurricane I vanished in

has fallen still,

and here am I,

 

no less in love with life or sky,

if but a small

and dazed thing.

 

Within a blur of blue and green

one sees the world

unsuddenly

 

demonstrate its changing way,

from blue and green

to orange white,

 

from starfish to a broken egg,

from children somewhere,

gesturing,

 

to burnished hawks, surrendering

in the dawn.

The images

 

I take with me, rearranged

in flight or dream

are all I know

 

of God, or me. Often the dead

of night implies

it's best to be

 

asleep to see, awake to love,

and just a little

dazed to be.

 

This holy, holy trinity.

 

(first published in NV/C)