Yes, to the Mole, Emerging in Night

Towards the moon we all
move if we can manage it,

our tiny dirt
covered shoulders.

The beauty of earth
as it shrugs off

each direction of the wind.
The small stirrings of our parents

in their last hours.
The sweep of hands

on blankets.
Their fretful, blind

devotion.

Copyright © 2004 Daniel Bourne All rights reserved
from West Branch
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission