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.
“the laughter rolling like a hoop out of His mouth and into mine…” Anne Sexton
There is laughter shuddering in the blood.
There is joy that will shatter bone, freeing lightening from its marrow
When the sky is painted with desire
And all swans with broken wings come healed from the river.
Streets fill with women wearing earrings that are hoops of fire.
The happiness prepared for us will find us falling under the weight
Urgent with wind whipped fig trees, urgent with a million wings of sparrows
All the spangled streets are ready for those who believe
And for those who believe they are too old