He skirled towards me, a rasp and hawk of a man,his mouth adrift in his face. He volleyed forth words
repeated over and over whilst inquisiting the shifting skythe way you seek beyond the fluencies of light,
uncertainties inherent in the night’s sequence:the way shepherds scoured hills, on guard against wolves,
only to be ambushed by a hustle of angels,by hallelujah upon hallelujah flinching still air
and that one star that even now hovers, uncertain,above those precious wild words.