St. Francis and the Angels

St. Francis and the Angels

out came the bottle
and up went the skirt
the thrust of these thoughts
on a summer morning
held for youth as coffee brewed
a rain on Sunday soft
enough to darken concrete
the leaves develop like Polaroids
first in light and then in rain
the world, the fire, bloomed
when his hand touched air
and he said bird and lark
shot up from the grass
the land beneath the eyes took shape
groggy continents sharpened out mountains
blinked and their blue expanse of lakes
opened to see the stars above
and blushed to see the first sun
but creation is so soon marred by toilets
contrails circle the planet
no amount of Mars can distill or drain
the death and he contains multitudes
while Venus likes to find her others
but walks alone, mostly, but for a few
poets. The morning gives way and soon
an ordinary round of robins leaves
worm pecking for shade
and cardinals cheep and whistle  to
each other bleak pronouncements
while around St Francis angels of the earth
gather to gossip about his halo