Heaven

The sun hangs like a yolk in the sky,

a sky that has cracked open

that we may look upon heaven.

thunderheads

the moon is a crab

scuttling through the sand of the sky—

thunderheads ride on her back

prayers

somewhere south of heaven

the moon crawls across the sky,
our prayers over her shoulder

Winter

Winter wraps itself around this town

like an old woman

pulling on a shawl.

The Prayers of Trees

Crowned in white habits,

the trees bend low, fingering

their rosary beads.

Close of Day

The sun slides out of the bruised summer sky,
and the gray door of night closes on this day.
Flowers bow their heads in the fields,
and the moon bends his knee to pray.