storm water on the roadside: mirror of power
                                                                  -lines: mirror
            of wings in smoke
                                       and sky: not birds but shadows
of birds emerge in the morning haze: wildfire,
                                                                   wind and hail,
            and the river fills
                                      overnight with ash and mist and rock:

river
       of another dream and a separate time, I see your rest:
            from the windows
                                       of our house of flesh, we are still
the watched children (held up / held close),
                                                            apprehending little enough
            of wholeness: love:
                                        the told God: his rooms of thirst:

now the yard is wrecked, the trees torn full of holes, it is a dry day,
            and there are no words
                                              for having
to leave behind belonging, for moving
                                                        sticks with a rake
            to the rising firepit, so sure the roses can’t be saved:
                                                                                      no

telling what’ll break
                              on the other side—time as circle, time as line—?
            our world, we learned, a watchword of our Lord:
                        we learned our hunger is a sign: