Epiphany

It is Autumn in late July after the rains
have come and reclaimed the land
with its banner of lovely verdure; the heat has broken,
and in the old orchard rain drips from branches,
a robin with a rust-colored breast hunts, stalking
among crab apples fallen ripe and glazed with
rain water upon the fecund earth . . .

We pulled away
and tracked along, surprised by
the evening light which had descended upon us --
and a little drop a little fall in the path,
which congenially enough helped us along
singingly -- as we were in the refrain of the gloaming
now.

But his darkened face in silhouette
as he reached a hand to me
out of a burnished sky hovering
in concentric waves rippling
the margins, and holy
the trees which cradle golden sunsets
in loving arms -- love your life!