an afternoon offering only itself
not seeming worth much to seek out
a stasis above the snow
the heavens drawing down just above our heads
sounds that normally surround us suspended in moisture
Harken
as clock hands are becalmed
cranky pistons dampened
sodden fields gathered by their fences
and stirrings of harp strings scatter to human ears
reverberations of sanctity formerly drowned out by sun
and now a moment when whispered assurances
form an answer to entreaties
a benediction to open palms
Andy Oram
June 21, 2025