epiphany begging

Perhaps you came and I was hunkered down,
You wandered through and I was playing the clown,
Maybe you loitered wondering and I was living virtually,
Until untouched your feet shook with unwelcome dust.

Perhaps under a monk’s cloak you disguised,
Or behind a drunken mask and stolen cap,
I’ve killed my brother and am wandering dreaming spires,
License me extra strong: stave away the cold.

But I was asleep. Contracted comfortable cataracts,
Blinded by an endless present. I missed your coming,
Epiphany begging.

A hollowed apple fell from a bended bow,
Cushioned by sodded clay, care worn with spring sweat,
Riven round and straight through. Tunnellers remain, sated.
A neighbour’s ignorant beneficience gratefully received.

Given a month of closing days and mulching leaves,
I will not remain but return. These tunnellers reveal only gaps
Becoming gaping, until an unbidden wind blows through,
And changes a season leaving me at the mercies of brutal beaks.
Pecking.