A Poem Came Last Night

When words have left too long
Pressed above life’s little messes
Caught. Undulate in drifts of thought

I leave bowls under the dreaming walls
Through cracks, gypsy words will drip
I collect them. If not contain them
At least place my fingers in their cool reprieve

Their naked witness
Pleasure the places theses words have traveled
The minds touched. A momentary flame

The open talons
An eagle skims the gray water
I know the wait of hunger
The reach through cold the others find empty

Enough, in my limited way, enough
For now, to bed
Enough