Afterwards

I am reading Echoes of Memory, by John O'Donohue.  His poetry is much like his prose: it speaks from, and to, the heart.
-----

Afterwards

After
all the words
spilled out
in seas
from the clay wells
of human sound,
and the air
crocheted
with bird calligraphy
everywhere,
every earth pore
calm with dusk,

still you
would rise,
like a new moon,
unclaimed.

Picture copyright 2014, 2015, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.