the planet’s leaves are turning
like rustling feeble memories
of fabled growing seasons
reaping faith and innocence

forgotten on frosty mornings
mother eternity slowly squeezes
arms wrapped in swift perfection
beyond gravity’s clumsy reach

into the orbits of our shaman
where the Druid priests worship
with Muslims, Jews, Christians,
and antiquity’s prostrate martyrs

love connects our souls there
and the grisly thorn-pricked stains
of Eldorado’s desperate hands
are cleansed in universal truth

Runnells, Iowa '14