And Of All Things

And Of All Things / Joshua Alan Sturgill

The Visible brittles
like sunned leather, clouds

like cold oil. Yet our gods
keep their appointments

even now. Rust
is for them a window.

A mother’s hands
awaken a wind full of eyes;

arms of children
join the green dance of Spring

even now. The Visible
creviced like a coal miner’s face

yet feathers
find their way to us

— feathers of limitlessness
and dandelion down

of immortality — shaken free
from the wings

of the Unseen