Stepping into the flock
waving wings
in all directions
above the whining
whiskers of a lonely cat
waiting for a snack
with the neighbors’ pat
on the head
before the sun
sets
Flowing from the soil
wafting wind
in all directions
above the burning
earth trees and grass
surrender to artifice
with the light that
fell past all the steeples
chased by the sun
into the waves
that wash
that wash
that wash
the feet
the hands
both here
and in other lands.
Before the ascension
(Walking near Houston without shopping)