Sometimes

Sometimes the fields across Sunset Lake Road
are filled with fireflies, frog songs, and crickets.

Sometime the sky is brilliant with the moon and crows
gathering to remind us of love,
mottled and traced with death,
but, love nonetheless.

Sometimes the cracked leather of time
is grooved with decay
and rubs away the solid ground we stand on
when the unwelcome guest arrives,
preparing, as always,
to sweep the house bare of everything beautiful;
getting ready for some new sorrow.

Sometimes, as closely as I read the charts,
the night sky becomes filled with flashing
and thunder, heavy with doubt
and I am lost in the swirling tenderness.

Sometimes, like tonight
I turn and  turn
hoping to decipher something
deep in the dunes
of one quiet moment
just before sleep.