Ailill
Wind Rushes In
A symphony of violin
strings vibrate.
The bustle buzz of a housefly
rattles and hisses up the windpipe.
Internal schisms
project a cadence
in rhythm.
In spaces between
a flock of birds
convert to
subjects and verbs;
clothing the suchness of things
with butterfly wings,
seeding the garden
with meaning.
Unity denied,
seeing with two eyes
signs that signify
waves that lap the shorelines.
Standing on higher ground
to avoid being drowned,
water seeps through
magnetic pulls of me and you.
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