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Behind Walls of Data

In the Last Green Hours

Crucible of Light

Dogs (A micropoem)

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest

Nucleus

Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday

In a Moment of Understanding

April Snow

Symphony in Sable

Justice Denied

Gossip

Graduation Day

Fire from a Distant Life

Frozen Retreat

Welcome Jack

Remembering Spring

A River's Chant

Shadows of December

Please Live

Unholy Love

A Silent Knowing

Morning Candle

A Multitude of One

Love is Now

Follow the Birdsong 2

Archibald

Night of the Broken Glass, Revisited

Someone Else's Paradise

Canvas of Gold (A Tribute to Poetry Sites)

On the Edge of a Dead World

A Very Late Apology

It Is You

When Two Hearts beat as One

THE WOLD LIKE THIS!

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

His Love will Sustain Us

 

On the Edge of a Dead World


I am lost in sweet oblivion,
then the chainsaws begin
lashing through a stubborn dream
and I wonder,
what is dying now?

And such an exquisite day
on the edge of destruction
where another tree lies
shipwrecked, still majestic
and unsung.

Old summers still gripping
the toppled pillars that
once held in place
a scattered universe,

a blur of yesterdays take
me down and I strain to see
it all just once again.

Here comic raccoons lived in
hidden splendor so far above me,
so superior because
they were so free,

and blue jays held court here
like cartoon nobles in a kingdom

floating between God and what
is almost-real:
so much lavish simplicity
above my miniature life.

And I remember all the emerald
drunk on yellow, gorged with August,
sailing across the corners of
this sad space,
tossed from end to end:
A shrinking sky. A sea of jewels.

Now the rat-like possums with
extraterrestrial eyes search
for their branches
under a strange, foaming sky
too large for this world
and leering, drooping
where only green should be.

And if there are tree ghosts
they reach for their phantom
sculptures above these stumps
and swear
they can still feel nests
and lunatic squirrels and wind
against those precious lines of age.

I want to sink back into my
dream where gentle giants still
serve up shade under
boulders of sky,

but the chainsaws chew and laugh
with a guttural battle cry
and our past and our future dies

one tree at a time.

Patricia Joan Jones





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