In spring wild horses ascend
through mullein and sedge
to rub noses with the mount

of the worn-away saint and stamp
hooves at the figure cringing
underneath. Deer come too

and knock antlers on spandrels,
remembering the miracle of
their milk. Swallows swoop

and snuggle in the gaping
eyes of saints above the root-
wrecked floor. Winter-weary,

wheat stands watch with canny
grace and branches tug shy walls
to skirts against the chorus of rain.

Loose rocks fall and fling a note
trembling down the aisle where
the apse strokes its grassy beard

as if recalling a long-lost troparion.
Vines tick through generations
of resurrections as bellflowers

rustle in their cowls. Spiders spin
vestments for shadows. At evensong
the stones themselves cry out.

 

[This poem first appeared in the the Spring/Summer 2016 issue of Subtropics and was reprinted at Poetry Daily. It is reproduced  here by permission of the author.]