I think when God
walked shy to Moses,
stars clustered in his hands,
he led our rabbi down
to the orchards of the heart.
The two walked near the other
and traded dreams like brothers
before sleep. They paused
afield and watched the sun,
lifted by themselves in unison,
race overhead. And Moses knew
not to dissappoint this man
with faltering steps or speech.
God wept uncomprehending
of His artistry and Moses scratched
some lines in stone to honor
a beloved friend.

em>Charles Bane Jr. is a full time poet. His work has been published WPB/NYC and Anything Else on wordpress. com, museumviews.com and in print, in ” I Was Indian: An Anthology of Native Literature, Vol.1″ . He is the only non-Native American to be included in the volume.

He is preparing his first chapbook for publication.

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