Remember when you kept a shadow over the beach for days?
Remember when you let the mountain snow go–
the rain showers dismantling
each ice crystal–you couldn’t
stop the floods, why would you?
Remember when you drained the lake from above
and it became the old lake–
was filled in and built over?
We don’t talk much, you and I,
and when we do, the language is in loops of vines and leaves and blood and veins.
It’s when I can sit still and just listen to the way you make the wind.