No more August thunder—seasons no longer discern themselves. Monarchs shift latitude. My eyes catch the strangeness— smoke instead of lightning yellowing my body. Light enters dark enters light enter seers eating crumbs off ancient tables. Hear the rustle of garments— somewhere in the deep silences, fabric of the universe reweaves itself under the weight of our undoing— if we dream what remains undreamed, begin again, will you cover us in eyes ... stretch our future out before, alate and apterous spacious enough to see.
Kathryn Knight Sonntag is the Poetry Editor for Wayfare and the author of The Mother Tree: Discovering the Love and Wisdom of Our Divine Mother and The Tree at the Center.