Forgotten Ground Regained

November Vision

I walked by the pond · where windblown wavesthat looked like scallops · lapped in alignmentwestward. The clouds · scuttled in the skylike the gray geese · migrating againbefore both fall · and my faith foundered.So when I passed · a pine that had pitchedinto rising waters · when weather worsenedafter midnight · and the milk-white mooneclipsed by darkness · had dared desert us,I suddenly saw · a blackness—suspended,its wings wild · and flapping—whiskabout my head, and then high over housesit vanished into vagueness, the veil lifted.
Copyright © Matthew Brennan, 2026
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