Once I saw
the sky burn.
Assuming everyone did that.
They don't I learned
later.
I can still see the sky burn
trees glowing
a soft arc of light.
Anxieties
ripping against the soft fleshy skin
of realness.
"not today" I might say
that's not right
to bring it all back down.
Away from the sky
that you cannot follow
back to earth
where feet are staying.
Listen instead to
the wind in the trees as you
work
the soft mutter of chewing animals
smell the grasses
the musk of bucks
the real things that bring you back.
Small feet running
Little Hands laughing.
Chew the apple
break the bread.
Those small reminders
of
what is real
against what isn't.
The bread reminds you the sky isn't
burning.
The hooves remind you the voices aren't there.
