2-24 The Bear Wakes and Leaves

this is the house of September,
silence the drums
of the sparrow,
come,
gather the shadows,
the dried roses, burn
and scatter the embers,
the cobwebs, the spiders,
the fools and their spinning wheels,
dim the lanterns,
the sky grows
dark,
with him, above,
the bear, and his thousand
droplets of rain, dripping,
white,
he is awake,

"he is blind,
send him away,
send him away,"
squeaks the mouse
with the fury of the east wind,
from the nightmare of my clutched hand

"quiet.",  I whisper,

squeezing his life,
back to where it came,
undone, and done,
he is, awake,
come, gather, and watch,
all of us, musicians at the fire,
the sky above, turns,
inward,
look down at us,
him, the awake,
with his one raging eye,
rips winter from our breasts,
swallowing, snow, ice, murder,
in his heart, his one silent fathomed rage,
swallowing his own,
eye, looking down at us,
heartbeat,

we do not move, we do not speak,
this is his time, the hunger, claws,
at his hollows to get out, to get out,
he growls, soft  and low into the grass,
the field of sky turns,
he leaves an anger of bristles,
the field of sky turns,
turns, turns,
towards the east,
dawn fades into bloom,
he is undone, gone,

come,
pick up the drums of the sparrow,
begin again,
come,
this is the
house of September.