Before Meteorologists
With rain we gauge the split rail's give
and take, the shimmy-shake of a chair leg,
power lines that wheedle, break. We take
it to the limit, risk high points, follow birds paths,
circle just once before landing.
In the way robins seize mayflies passing
and gliders dissolve into flittering bees,
we are swollen crowd fraying, flyways faltering,
snow-struck and wind-strung. The only space
is the space collapsing space creates.
It comes down to this: final drop, a single flick
of finger lightning. At this elevation our last
comforting thought is a spontaneous generation:
a transubstantiation of horsehair to snake,
clump of mud to snail, hailstone to whooping crane.
--from Hypotheticals by Leigh Kotsilidis
