Turn screws and wooden legs a million times a second
Glitter on the bay, like oil
Cattails nod like monks
Humble tonsures blur
Periphery diamonds kiss mercury
Andrew Wyeth, you always move my wife
The right number of birds, proportion of barn to sky
Every afternoon holds rubies, under rocks
In hidden caves, under rocks
Whales too, shiver and roll under a thin layer
So many thin places
So many thin places