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.