In 1983 I prayed to ducks
a few geese, sometimes a seagull
I went out to them, dressed, with my toes covered
Driven by coach to the edge of their water hostel
Or, if I had the choice, in my nightgown
Bare feet on dew spiked suburban lawn
Disordered places
Web of relations hidden, gone
Ceremonial scent of Juniper
Offering bag in my pink paw
Always together, tied by love
Powerful smack of wings above
Floating, iridescent grace
Cupped in a palm of reflected space
Peers on the ground, familar toddlers:
side to side, shoulder sway strut
Yet – they could leave at any time
Shake their tails – fast – down the wide asphalt
Delicately, then, show what you’ve brought
Adults away – you’ll scare them off!
The bag often deeper than my arm was long
The holy task of crumbling, giving to ground
The song
Of desert morning light
sparkle of the night’s wetness
ascending to sky
Ring chain of calls
Here are my gifts
Let me belong
Practice with Devon 