(oh let us worship the lord in the beauty of holiness
let all the earth tremble before him)
this scrap patch under the powerline --
aster, broom, and side-oats,
quaking aspen and milkweed empty handed
in early snow --
how it muffles and sharpens
sweetens the silence
the pylon into a spire
in the snow the cricket sings
with his whole body
with his only, holy body
the buffalo grass
softly burdened
bows its seed heads
the little cricket folds away
his black vestments
***
Psalm 96
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a revision of this.
2 Comments
Erin, It’s often in the very final line that you capture me. You’ve done it again.
“the little cricket folds away his black vestments”
I can see it and feel it as though I were that cricket.
changed “aster” to “thistle” —
got rid of the “a” in “pylon into a spire”
Can’t decide if “empty handed” should be hypenated or not.