Create in me a new heart, O God (Psalm 51:11a)
Wind trills taughtly-anchored telegraph wires.
A stave of birds compose an arpeggio, ready for flight.
Hedges shrug off the gusts and hold the line, but
Something is trying to stir my hibernation.
First, it must melt the ice from my arteries,
before I learn to love the dam,
set up a new rhythm:
Love’s invitation to dance.