The Joining

I am a needle sewing
the night air’s chorus
of peepers. Use the yellow
thread to find your way.

Unwind it slowly.
Let its light guide
you on the pine-needled
path past plush lichen.

Night sings
to the water lilies. Bullfrogs drumming.
The underbrush rustles,
releasing its breath. A stick
snaps and snaps. Fireflies

A falcon sculpts the wind.
Or does the wind sculpt the falcon?
He swoops, rises, swoops,
rises, holds. Stitching
heaven and earth.

MARTHA TOWNLEY is a psychotherapist in private practice in the suburbs of Boston.

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