I want the word that burns into my heart</br>Like God's coal alive on the Prophet's tongue.</br>I would listen now while memory is ablaze</br>To seal… - Donald Davidson

We mourned with you then in brotherhood,</br>And I'll weep with you now for those whose names</br>Burn on your monuments like altar flames.

Something stirs that once had life. It drops</br>Into the stream, a last act of faith.</br>Seedballs of sycamore, incautious leaves of willow,</br>These have outstayed their autumn, teasing death</br>Only so far, not yet beyond all patience.</br>Now they let go.

Father remembered the wild pigeons crowding</br>Beech groves, mast-rich. The flutter in boughs, the cloud</br>Darkening all, a hurricane circling and surging.</br>Eye lost count, ear could not measure sound.</br>Mind hurled measureless with them, feathered the sky.