November (c)

November (c)


Revelation Angels

I have the night
and the road
and your voice on the radio

You are telling me
of revelation angels
fey and wild, who

Spill from ordinary lovers
and fools sixteen hundred
furlongs of deep blood, who

Wield with fiery blades
fell fury, burn and leave
only dim ash, brittle memory, and

In the warm gravel, the
rhythm of your voice
I hear how you love

Your radio story
how it binds together
the pieces of your life; and

I am thinking of how
I have come to love
the light of winter

Its long reach
into hidden places
the way it holds

A red river
of plum leaves
at rest on the damp earth

How tenderly it reveals
the vibrant green gospel
of new grass

Each blade
a revelation,
an angel.

- -Amos Clifford