L says the trees are wading into the water
and they are
the flood comes and goes without us seeing
how it does
we have few cues, shivering when we want
when-ever
feeling a bit skinless, thinking that's not it
no, not it
we have watched our friends say goodbye
but saw
only their backs, so who it was that waved
we won't know.
But a pattern of plummeting birds now coats
our skin
making us a festival of play and shining and
wildness--
jubilee and jamboree and carnival and revelry
every where
A festivity so full of possibilities, children
just listen
the communion now begins--a bit uncertain
in origin
speaking to you from over there... not there
...there!
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