I Kings 17:17-19:14

Frigid water
Raven punctuates
purling from caverns.

Etched in mallard down
wisps of stratus breathe
from abandoned mine shafts.

Gurgling into ice shelves
even now, prophets flee
to black pools.

The riddled snowpack
elliptical circuits.

With inescapable trepidation
bear and moose tracks
cross silence and circles of slaughter.

In the hush, beaver
glide into gumbo lodges.
Where would I go

so soon, when back roads
admit the muddy
fugitive taste of smoke that

wafts from timber-framed
chambers where small cakes
are frosted by young mothers?

Look about the solitude
of a melting afternoon
far from the temple.

With dank crusted endirons
and the test invoking fire,
papery birch oscillate.

poem copyright by Jnana Hodson
(originally appeared in the journal Nimble Spirit)


Elders 1For the complete chapbook in a free PDF edition, click here.



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