The Skinner's Psalm

Let my words rise
like the smoke from the stub in my hand
I have walked through thick grass
soaked up to the knees
with a load of dead things
across my shoulders
and the hum of the crickets
mocked their empty plushness
and the light glistening on the water
mocked the sun's gleam on fur
and the dried skins seemed brittle
against the damp beneath my feet
now, for once, I set down my burden
to peer up into the clear darkness
the clouds are far grander
ranging across the sky
still, I think there's some value
in the quickness of smoke
as it rises over the steps
and twirls off into the night