When the wind/sky really is God

by Ed Higgins

and all the trees are holding

their limbs up in prayer

and rain is mating with soil

and loam itself is sperm

life for the oak, or maple

or any other tree


and you stand there admiring

the green, or red, or orange

or brown leaves depending on

the season's fecundity


or maybe just enjoying

the stark naked tree in winter

and the whole thing is a gift

to the wind/sky God

or to whatever is beyond the sky

where solar winds that are now swirling

streams out into the infinite universe

which is hope or at least something like it


looping back toward us at the speed of prayer

where it helps keep pace with dreams


that can eventually outdistance even

those forms of darkness at the center


of nearly everyone's need for

forgetting and forgiveness.