Yellow Wings

When the sun goes down—and you happen to notice it—
And the sky is clear, there’s always a whitish light
edging the earth’s offerings.
This is the lost, impermanent light
The soul is pulled toward, and longs for, deep in its cave,
Little canary.
This is the light its wings dissolve in
if it ever gets out from underground.

Terrestrial Music

What’s up, grand architect of the universe?
The stars are falling,
The moon is failing behind your vaporous laundry,
Planets are losing their names,
and darkness is dropping inches beneath the earth.

Down here, we take it in stride.
The horses go on with their chomp and snatch in the long grasses,
The dogs cringe,
and coyotes sing in the still woods, back out of sight.