after Linda Gregg

Every day starts and ends the same

except when it doesn’t: today,

few cars or people pass. No need:

this bridge leads almost nowhere.

Cornfields stretch for miles

beyond. I watch night drop

behind the trees: an old habit.

Light divides being from absence.

Mayflies rise like church-goers

to the sounds of cricket choirs.

I am unfaithful. I remember

how people said God’s harmless

when he’s answering prayers.

But I’ve never seen good come

from anybody knowing everything.

Streetlights are waking and they

hold back the moon brass with rust.

Let the water below run black. Let web.

Let the spider. Let land. Let light.

Let trees stretch out. Let be. Let sing.