� copyright All Rights Reserved Wilson, Richard S.

(for Lance Henson)

in the garden
shadows scuttle
beneath the rocks

there is barely a rumor
of sleep among the Dogwood
and Laurel

and within that stone
cloister
His wrappings lie
cool as ash

light spreads its wings
like an ancient bird

now, with a simple touch
He returns
in the rising of the bread
in the ferment of the wine