I have a friend
who speaks to the Holy Ghost.
I listen; he looks
into the distance
and says “The Spirit says
to wait.” The leaf looks back
at the branch and dreams
of rivers. I look back at my life,
friends, and confess
I’m not really sure
how I got here. In the looking
back: salt, sand, even sourwood
honey on a white tablecloth.
Randy pours the Spirit out
and then tells me
it told him to shut up.
So we’re quiet for a while
as I watch a bird
singing just behind his head.