not nearly yet

Hesitation

You can veil it a thousandfold ways,
It’s a Christian god you want.
The songs adrift muddy shores,
That seashells sing to liars, crooks,
Troubadours alike, incarnate infinity
For infinite repentance amid fields
of thorns; you won’t get hurt.

The sky is not always blue, nor is
the night always cold: the fields
wouldn’t be fields if they weren’t so.
The rain upon the flock is just a
little H2O. Thieves know knots like
those folks that tied them to posts
and calves that have yet to wean.

Shake off quivers, darkened eye sockets
behold darker hues than moonless
nights; dancers tire, but spirits dance
to beats untold. Tap the tap
that never tires, so are children
told, before bedtime erodes into
the silent wail of lycanthropes.