RENEWAL
The March mist falls from the sky
like the covers from a sleeping woman.
The earth is awakening
and in her half-
by the outstretched arms of God
and commanded by his thunderous voice
to be again without form and void,
even as the light is about to break forth.
DAYBREAK IN THE MEADOW
Feasting upon the work of skilled hands
moths lay waste the wool,
termites dangle tendrils of hickory,
ants make dunes of oak dust.
Steadfast and secret,
the rampant nocturnal entropy proceeds
until dawn's delicate light caresses the irises,
which open like the eyes of children,
and the larks resume their song.
O the meadow, smitten by sunshine