outside my window,
husbanded here
by the breath of the dawn—
though my questions
number in the millions,
in this moment,
I just want to know
if you think
every wind is distinct—
or is there, in truth, really
only one kind
which gets passed
around and forward
in space and in time?
In short,
is it more
like the seafoam
which drove you
to this building,
or the way
we all suspect
that there was
a first yawn—
issued-forth at the end
of day seven by God,
and ever since then riding
this great wave of animality
for untold—
and as-yet-
unfolding-into
eternity—eons?
