Canticle

I saw a figure slogging through darkness
As if through overgrowth knee high
Sloughing something off shrugging shoulders

A shadow among thicker shadows
Like darkness contrasted by
Darker blackness

And at the end of this vision
The shadow figure dissipated
With hands reaching skyward

A lighter darkness a canopy overhead
And in the quiet of the blackness becoming
A nascent grey ascending higher

I heard the slightest whisper of singing.

Dylan Webster lives and writes in Phoenix, AZ. His poetry and short stories have appeared in The Dillydoun Review, Quillkeepers Press, and Cannons Mouth Quarterly.