Ave Maria, Gratia Plena!

When the Wind Keeps

I’ve grown smaller than the pauses
Between sentences, more contained
And perfunctory than punctuation

My daydreams, curled into semi-colons
Pliable as eraser shavings
Scatter off the memory of lead
Seem to echo my half-cupped hands
My idle mouth, my lidded pupils
Undilated

Some future part of me hangs
Up there, in every mass
Of meandering cloud shape
That crowds the vaulted sky
In portents unread

I am not even dormant
In this present transmutation
Neither dry nor wet
I am just one
Glassy orb cusping
Gravitas, descent’s intent

Before hammered rainbows roll