Day to Day

We could all go to the beach to day
and watch the storm-waves.
Perhaps hurl prayers into the flowering sky.

And when the days wizardry deepens
frogs will fasten their hold upon the world.
Barn owls will regurgitate cover songs
for the hunting wings of night.

We may become
a music played one-handed
by the bodiless maidens of the moon.
Soon too be only one song
in an echoing room of memory.

Or prayers returned from the storm
as the cry of gulls in the dawn
fully clothed again.