The Seven Stars of The Plough

The seven stars of The Plough have moved from their March Spring place over the fresh cut and wounded field in line with our fence, now in June they sit in their summer furrow moved on by spinning rocks and rhythms the planet weights that haul the seasons burnishing the tips of gold that drip in the wheat head .

From under a summer moon a bend and release of running dogs that stretch and reach for hares,
the summer moon larger than a sun, presence of another place, presence of another planet, the long exhaling breath of summer, evenings on grass jade beds of heat that double days and shorten nights and settle on the mind that thinks, opened by the pulling Plough that cuts and turns on heavy nights thick with charge and thunder fighting, thick with fire and earth and water lift the fragile seed and make it grow.


Heart