At the eclipse, the birds fall
silent, the earth shrugs its mantle
of shadows close; death comes
easily, a simple matter of forgiving all
that life still owes
Resurrection rises with the spring
equinox sun pressing home its higher vantage.
The very rock unfurls; the tomb is warmed;
salt dissolves; the taste of something
almost forgotten
The night before, the world turned still
toward its winter moon, the garden chill
with sleep, shifting friends face down
dreams of betrayal, torches burn a false dawn.
The hardest is to stay, still
over the water 
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