Gymea Lily at Daybreak

Out of dark eternity comes

An entering into that is for some a sound 

Which finds just the right line to make a spear green and draw around

A hand preparing to be warmed by a process of breath

Becoming the Hubble telescope’s red light evermore defined.

You are a slow miracle, the philosopher’s task, the story told last night over
Wine…how the woman went to fire.

Whoever sleeps now will never wake.

Whoever becomes less separate, separates. Whoever lifts

Such a memory from deep in the earth and refuses to confess,

A peculiar music occurs as an ibis of Degas. Join the others:

Currawong, organbird, grass parrot, but they all mean nothing to the bird on your
Shoulder whispering a cadenza in the ear above Babylon.