Addendum

And isn't it enough that the mind's caliper

widens to take in a log, can also

accommodate the hollow bones of a blackbird

flying elliptically to pinion a field,

does not overlook the sun bleaching the sky,

or how pinecone trees effloresce

into a highrise of spiny sea urchins and then

handgrenades frozen at the moment of explosion,

and never misses the dark hot muscle of a tuna;

I've got lots of sensibility and no common sense;

isn't it better to lie low while the universe bombards,

to ride out the pendulation of the seasons,

straining not so often to embrace the moon, but more

to render it embraceable; isn't it enough

that one branch, rocking before a storm, can gather

the lines of twilight like threads in cool fresh sheets;

and isn't it enough that all creeks flow seaward;

isn't it enough that riverbanks come in pairs?