December Song Poem by Thomas James Martin

Chapel Hill,1975


My hands remember your brightness
your face
graces the morning.

On a common ground,
a serpent curses wintry sun,
the fierce of heart rush to the skies;

My hands remember your brightness
your face
graces the morning.

The wind springs up on wax-wing light
Old loves rise
Merciless and unforgiving;

My hands remember your brightness
your face
graces the morning.

Ancient tears from the heart's great spaces,
the windy blood in song
on a clay harp sung,

My hands remember your brightness
Your face
graces the morning.