home from Bethlehem

tasting fore-echoes
of the dark god's Song, i
remember who i am

bigger than when last
i looked, nameless and less sure --
home from Bethlehem

my mother waters
pineapple sage, columbine,
with an old brown hose

john stands against the
sky, blue shirt, sweeping the roof,
crowned by green maple

pileated woodpecker
digs her claws in the sill,
bellies to the glass

i can no longer
tell the sacred from the plain --
all work is the Work