Forward in Time and Space

the wings of a crow rake the March wind the following rain its slow awakening we walk winter grass and mud and feel the earth breaking wherever we go in darkness or daylight the bones of history (so old they’ve turned to stone) lie buried beneath altars rites of passage from one era to another – from one life to another (our little minds our complex madness, our sad philosophies) doubly precious is the child in the womb, the woman on the bus being carried forward in time and space only to be overwhelmed by the connections between us drawn by the season by what we evolved with the way each heart beats faster in flight