dust

morning early
before the rain,
before the sun –
the birds, the birds
are waking the dead,
shaping shadows into light
into light

yesterday an adder
crossed the road
scales aglow and
pungent with life

and i know how it is
when our deities crawl
from dream to bask a while
in the glory of spring sun –

and how we in turn,
like the silent scrape
of dust under scale belly,
we ourselves bask
dust in their presence.

and if we slough and slough
stand naked with the trees
does all we are not fall away –

fall like empires
fall like the rome
all our roads
still lead to

fall to the tide
of our own
beautiful undoing
our own beautiful
becoming.

before the fall,
before the rain,
before the sun –
the birds, the birds
have waken the dead,
shaped shadows into light
into light.

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Linking to Open Link Weekend #24 over at Desperate poets.