Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Stigmata




When the light turned pale silver,
the gleam of  St. Joan’s armor,
            the pine trembled
with a red burst
            of cardinals on its bough.

Woodsmoke filled the air
and I wondered --
          what trees were sacrificed
          for the fire;

and whose wounds
          bled recently
to summon these birds.



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