Over all creatures in the world, some idea
of order: ants bearing crumbs to their lair,
architecture of webs blueprinted
in droplets of water. Of the winged,
a symmetry that ascribes to one side
feathers the other. You see
even the ghostly part of the machine:
a goat or a dog missing a hind
leg lopes along the road. If they
can hobble toward grass or water
or the smell of something buried in soil,
how much more should we be able to muster?
And in fields so recently razed, the first
gashes of buds coming through ash.