Star Droving

If incandescent clouds lit
In old brass by the sun--
Run under, fallen in flame--
Became a bell that rang
Light instead of sound,
They would still summon night
And pull the settling
Stars around our souls.

Healing Is

Healing is
A concert turning
Under mind, under
Force and form.
I cannot find its surface,
Contour --it is more,
A shape, but where?
I can't ignore what
Is not there, yet
I heal and learn it is,
As I am, quite real.