Everything catches the light,
and glistens. I turn my face
to catch the wind -- and a
song -- in my throat.

The wind is a sailboat
carrying the heart
Of morning. Blue
shards of glass. Speckled
stone. Crumbling
earth. A mountain
in the summer,
humming fertile hymns.

It is easy to love
The world this way:

That is
to say, I love it
as I love you.

The way the sky
knows without being
told, when to kiss
the parched
and hungry earth
with rain.