Simple Equity

a choir softly sings,
filling gaps and cracks
between planets,
days making choices,
bridging stars.

A cloud of witnesses
mists up
from slow river at dawn,

sings at dusk,
rising, falling with winds
of praise and contemplation.

Through fire-lit trees,
Beauty rides a skittish mare,
veiled lightly
in long flowing hair.

Dancing hoofs,
in every print
a flower grows,
but it is fall,
the wind has bite,
swirling blows golden leaves
in her fading trail of light.

I live here with nothing
but a forest hut among the trees,
dry and warm,

yet I dream
she may shivering come,
round my glowing stove
make simple home.