intention

All I can hold is this
this
and the thought is mine now
and the action is out in the world like a cast
and who knows what it will catch

Such silver thread
invisible in the sun
shining lightly in the moon
I can thread it and
I can tangle it working it too much
trying to hold it all

It must play out
gone and gone
and still there
tight between my fingerprints

Do you call it mine?
I hold so little
and the air delights in its tracing of the wind

My thought flits like a hummingbird
I cannot slow the beating
or the flight
I am caught
and the other end is free
and the birds sing their longings
for the air
for the sky
for
the tiny wings beating
that are the anchor

to thread the sun and moon
and tie them in a gift which I can
hold
but never see

It just holds me.