HARBINGER

Originally posted September 10, 2023

A thousand dragons struggle 
in the countryside: 
                 providence smiles.

Joy comes softly and tiny feet 
dance upon the altar of time.

Night closes its door and draws
a gesture of hands kneeling at the rail.

Celebrations carry the clock forward: 
eggs will be cracked and omelets made, 
the pepper and the salt will rejoice, 
and the kettle will sing.

Headstones in the cemetery direct us 
toward a future rooted in the past, 
unless one of them is yours.

History barely reveals the secrets 
hidden away in time’s purse, 
idle and unspent as miser’s gold, 
useless as the mandates of grammar 
or water that flows toward loneliness.