Free me from these tremors that awaken me in the night
when my only company is the shimmering call of the owl
in the trees below my room.
I was remembered by the tall young man from the place
where the sky never touches the line of hills around it;
the way a shy boys’ hand hovers near a pretty girl.
I am closer now, even in the india ink blue darkness of night
to a moment of reunion with ashes in the wall, and water
that flows from a place high and far.
I will dive towards this moment of dreaming, in the gathering dark
as the stars shudder into vision and the wheat stubble rustles
beneath the crazy racing of hares under the moon.
I will be free just for a moment from the tears that arrive at dawn
and become a sorcerer who grasps at wasps with bare hands
and watches the purple lightning above the earth.