Driving east at mid-dawn
From gray into a curtaining of gray,
A coral comb of sunlight suddenly appeared
Across the crown of mountains to the left:
A dorsal fin of earth that breached the dark.
We all breathed for a moment:
The egrets, hunched, deliberating steps,
The stubble in field on which they walked,
The cactus fence, electric plant, the citrus groves,
The rocky hills, the parking lots,
The cars awash with rain.
And when I got where I was going
Even the asphalt was silvered with joy
And the steam plant tossed its spume
Into the arriving sun.
The Comfort Stone
Es ist Zeit, daß der Stein sich zu blühen bequemt
— Paul Celan, Corona
It's time the stone made an effort to flower.
It's time the ogre stones bloomed.
Throw over your branches like hair all you ashes.
Throw open your colors like daylight, you stones.
It's time the earth split in two.
Time that the continents' ends moved together.
It's time that the mountains bow down at your feet,
Trees, touch the ground like small flowers.