An owl in broad daylight
flying into the woods like a ghost
or the dappled rump of a deer
filtering through a thousand leaves.

There is something to be gained today
the kind of gain
that eyes keep as faith
when sight fades.
Myths of half clothed things
become real
then return to their
less apparent natures.

There is an art
to be absorbed in the mist
as it leaks from your shoes
in the dripping light.

A faith to be gained
by the way the air melts the earth
as if it were making a new reality
from the miasma of us.
















(C) Eric Ashford June 08