The hills were fresh with furrows
after the stars all had fallen
leaving their dust like a pollen
where their points had plowed the fields

We stood there sowing clover
sharing the bread of the presence
Bioluminescence
in the wake of a holy week

And I have seen the moon
light a tulip bulb like it was on
And I have seen my flesh and blood
playing in the evening sun

I said, “Ooh, estrellas en las montañas,”
I said, “Ooh, stars in the mountainside,”
I said, “Ooh, piedras cantan hosannas,”
and I’m coming home
I’m coming home

We drove to Lansdowne Crescent
Out for an Indian dinner
Back to the flat by the river
that drew me to the sea

I turned back from the window
and then I folded up my ticket
Promised myself to forget it
till I found a home right here

And I have seen the moon
light up the dark before the dawn
And I have seen from Arthur’s Seat
a sacrament of sun

I said, “Ooh, estrellas en las montañas,”
I said, “Ooh, stars in the mountainside,”
I said, “Ooh, piedras cantan hosannas,”
and I’m coming home
I’m coming home

Shed a little light
on my way
on my way

(January-September 2017. In memory of Don Pierce.)