Musing on the coming
dark... by Scott Ferry
i have said it before
but those squirrels
are up to something
every october they
know that we are weak
and they chatter and
mock us
and store our hopes
and our light
in secret holes
the crows know too
they have tried for
millennia
to teach us how to
exchange our bodies
for charcoal and
moonspit when the doors
are still visible
before the dark closes
in around our throats
but we have never
listened but string
our false suns around
our homes
like a mistranslated
spell
and sing songs of a
man
who brought the light
to us
and was murdered for
it
or songs of light
which endured
eight days on one
day’s oil
as if this could
bring a submerged star
back to this northern
sky
the crows are in the
water under and through
as they dance between
doorways
bringing the light
through in swaths of
wingbeat and
caterwaul
the squirrels dig
their way there
as we look up
impuissant
and plead with a
blank
dark heaven
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