Above the Bay Leaves by John Swain

Chasing prairie falcons
make a halo
for the girl
asleep beneath this hill.
I marvel to be above
in the rushing wind
of grey space
between ridges of jagged rock
and the black depth
of virgin pine.
Deep green creek well
I follow the fall
to the center
of sky in the water.
I stilled under the river eddy
like the snake coil
of a golden uraeus.
Wild horse bones washed
onto the clay bank
to grow another horse
from the bay vapors
her sibyl inhaled.


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