for my dear friend, Rob Sacks, on his birthday
We seem to be alone but we are not.
Seem to be solid but we are more like sky than the sky itself.
All day long busy pouring water from one hand
into the other.
At end of day we get back to open air.
Stand listening to the wind
separating calls of dog, coyote, wild turkey, formations of geese
from the sound the sky makes going red.