cviii.

the moon rides the night sky, rolling to full
I think you're a bird and
you fly elsewhere, over wave
through wind, across mountain

peaks, arrayed like waves

we here below walk, sideways
the day is a dancer, moments
leap and kick, roll in a circle
arms spinning,

across the sidewalk, over the
asphalt,

some moment it will kick out
to where waves are,

where walking is and where flying
are the same place, woven
and weaving through time,

if things fall over, and roll out
of rhythm, into another

turn over each other, it's true
that it's all one movement,

far peaks and far skies, tableland
spread beyond the checkpoint,
dwarfs the arches

rivers glowing in the grassland
late summer, waves breaking

against the near shore, past
the horizon,

waves crashing in the mind only
through the snow-blocked passes
in the dark,

walk the wind blowing in from some
other coastline,

fly the wind rising across the line
from somewhere
beyond us

between the darkness, all winds
are the same wind,

if we are blown out and off course

into other places, all places are one
time, and in one wind,

dance together.