If Today is the Last Day

If today is the last day
to walk by the sea,
to feel the mist
form droplets in my curls
and drip onto my nose

then let this joy flow
as a prayer to the clouds
and to the wind's mother.

If today is the last day
to breathe this cool autumn air
and to feel the waves rush
over my green boots and tumble back
to the source of all water

then let my curious heart beat
like a drum crashing next to the heart
of a lover.

If today is the last day
to hear your voice and the meditation of all souls
at the edge of the earth and sky

then let me raise up my voice
dancing praise and singing
loudly with gulls and pipers
so that it echos
with all the angels I have ever known.

Infinity sounds more beautiful
with the choir humming this last day
of hallelujah.

Turkeys on Patrol

These ten fat turkeys
graze in the gray mist,
kicking up oak leaves,
eating ticks and worms.

Close to the old stone wall at the edge of the field,
they feel the safety of the land;
heavy as the hills.

These ten turkeys
shift and weave in a line
close as soldiers on patrol.
The snow and rain roll off their backs
oblivious to the coming storm
just over the next ridge
of a long winter.

Moving slow as monks
looking for wisdom,
these earthy warriors
click in garbled, low voices,

keep watch while they walk
together.