I trust the depths of the nights
more than any single politician
even when tangled up in darkness
heart battered like the surface of the moon
among searching scattering conditions
one can often find much clearer ways
running the gauntlet of stars and stones
towards days of respite, certainty and care
from out of the black holes, the universe rings
in the morning we can run through woods
and the plum crammed orchards
our tears and our love making prisms of hope
under sunflowers meta morphing
rhythms of the pulse awakening
busy like the blow flies
waiting for sunbeams
to warm flutterring wings
moments to sap the bleakness.
