I hear you and I’m everywhere, a spreading music.
You’ve done this many times.
You already own me, but once more
you buy me back into being.



Lightning, your presence
from ground to sky.
No one knows what becomes of me,
when you take me so quickly.



The wind is what you say.
The night bird is drunk with the syllables of your name,
over and over, like the strokes of a portrait
being carefully painted in the tall space inside of me.



Birdsong, wind
the water’s face.

Each flower, remembering the smell.
I know you’re closeby.