Bones of Time

I saw a skin of light through haloed fingers

Stepping over stars waiting to be quenched

In the slow blue hush, lapping at the moon

Each black-eyed berry bursting my heart

Over fields swallowing sheets of rain

And the bluffs dropping echoes

Where roosters dare crow before sunrise

With tenderness, as though such ferocity

Could slice the slip-knot times from their fleshy veils

The years are younger somehow, in the bones of our past

Overlooking you-me, this ruin of tree sloped skies

And those who sleep like honey in hives