Working with Glory
In the rich thick salt
of a sea,
gulls gather creating
havoc with their stammering wings.
A dog brushes my knees.
Small pebble shells cover my toes.
I walk to the pavement where
an insect crawls,
seeing purpose there as great
as any mountain climber’s weight and cause.
I follow a madman off the pavement
into the bush, hearing the waking
of an oncoming downpour.
In a raven’s beak descending
a chant echoes into the open:
It brings in rays of maximum heat,
sets my name
Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Our Poetry Archive” June 2018
You can listen to the poem by clicking below: