Revision

In our dreams the moose

gets up and backs away and away and away, his leg

as it should be, his hulk

unbumped. The smell of cedar is also the shape of

cedar: and here now is a new

world order and the child can say a little longer what it is

she needs to wonder and still

there’s some summer left in which to connect a comet

to any single mammal sense.

And the lion will lie down with the lamb. And the bird

will roost in a human-

scented nest. And the loon lowers herself for her babies.

And now: August

with its great star events each night of which I have awoken

hungry and remembered

to walk out unblinking into the warm and vigorous night.