feather of mist

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Heaven
David Baker
All afternoon the sprinkler ticks and sprays,
ticks and sprays in lazy rounds, trailing
a feather of mist. When I turn it off,
the cicadas keep up their own dry rain,
passing on high from limb to limb.
I don’t know what has shocked me more,
that you are gone, that I am still here,
that there is music after the end.

rapt for each other

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The Anniversary
David Baker
All the years of nights
rapt for each other
all the joy and later
all the trouble
less trouble than job
and this one night’s sky
so full of stars each
flows farther away
as the low wing-wash
of a hunting owl
so close overhead
I didn’t hear
until it was beyond
all night walking
on the black road
I didn’t see pass
the great freighter
of a shared life
furrows in the cut field
pushed up from a
prow I didn’t know
had sailed by and
where has it gone …