The rain fell all night overtaking itself,
beading off the hill’s hunched coat.
The morning shows a quick patina
of green through a burn-off’s
nested smoke, the sunken light;
the far-off leaves turning
themselves like crystal drops,
this feeling the cream skimmed off
the milk of all feeling.

Unlatch and latch the unattended gate,
between two grave actions
the will slips through.
Though the heart wants for rest
at the mouth of its river – keep on.