reaching upward
pruning shears in hand
I straddle the ladder
feet on the top rungs
head in the bare-branched treetop
my breath draws clouds
and the low golden sunlight
melts the dew into mist
I look up
as black rags fly past
congregate in the dark spruces
and caw bloody murder
Unraveling Time
Desert Wind
Ploughman's Son
Ploughman King
The Year the Cloud Fell
The Spirit of Thunder
Shadow of the Storm
The Cry of the Wind
Beneath a Wounded Sky
Cryptogenesis: A Memoir
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