With everything we know
so far
we couldn't fill a
vacuum.
that nature
is God's thoughts;
others,
that God is nature
talking.
But whichever the case,
at least no one argues
that all the great many
are made
in the image
of something
that lacks patience
and abhors
concentration.
*
Letter by letter,
I am spelling out
thank you
with one unbroken cursive
caress of a pen—
is this the same
way mangled
roots turn
to hale stems?
Does each
tendril reach
to receive
or to bless
the sun?
