A signal that has come before

                                                                         A signal that has come before,

                                                                                    a sign misplaced,

                                                                         where has it gone?

                                                                                    the white etched mountains

                                                                         traced by dew,

                                                                                    fingering shadows,

                                                                         cradling dawn,

                                                                                    the leaf that blows

                                                                         across night’s palm,

                                                                                    the star exhales,

                                                                                                 the signal’s gone.

                                                               s.k. lindeman