In June  

The earth is a green goddess, hip and hair
cod and elm    deer and roe    iron and foam  

Petals daze   apples hum with bees
bleed splinters of pulp when cut  

Creep of wings    shriek of owl echoes
as she lands on a brace of branches  

The lark in the oak seems to ache
for the aerie amid shards of cloud  

Young bodies tat cartwheels in air
stir afternoon light into motes of shadow  

The harp-necked cob pursuing psalms
tugs at your ear with his sharp grunts  

Loon soars suddenly    pierces moon
with bill’s edge    the sheen of a needle  

The altar under the spire is bare
while cicadas sing a zing zing zing liturgy on the lea  

Even the halest person bays at the madcap moon
blesses its abyss of light  

We are reminded that we need more
than meat and shade  

We know that the covey sharpens in winter
that we will trace our steps in December’s mud  

Yet there is no gap in this bright oasis—
this month is a clove we pull from the ground  

slowly    its hot summer grass aroma
clinging to us     smudged knee and verdant tress