When the clouds bleed

I wish I could speak like music

I wish I could put the swaying splendor

Of the fields into words

So that you could hold Truth

Against your body

And dance

                                                                Hafiz, The Gift, Ladinski, Trans., p. 305

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morning sky

first grey then brightening

a fantasia

of oranges and reds

bleeding clouds

dripping brilliance into the morning

grain waving gently in the breeze

a chorus line

dancing to the music

sacred

fawns playing

birds trilling into the brittle air

sacred speak

creation music

a beauty

beyond

words

which makes

faith

dance