Did the pterodactyls sound
like the Canadian geese
honking overhead?
Did they sail outlined in their chorus
by grace, configuration of flight?
Who believes the earth
has a soul?
Not I says the skeptic!
Not I says the cynic!
But above me I saw a soul
sketched on the sky,
or a piece of soul
in the contour of an arrow
persisting in the heavens.
With my own eyes I saw
what Judas could not see,
the dinosaurs singing!
Still living in the world,
eating the corn left in the
adjacent fields.
Nothing changed,
for the unimaginal soul.
I stand without wings
lifting my arms to the ache
of a song at dusk.
Who believes in the soul?
The soul I see chasing tomorrow
in the horizon,
sounding the bell of itself
above me.