Wonders

A man's years fill up with the surfaces of lakes,
And clouds after storms
That bow low above them,
And branches tracing ovals
Over constellations,

And the smell of things
When the sun is set,
And the wind has stopped
Contending with old treetops
And new nests,

And the world of kindling needed
By all possible nights has been gained
From awkward jawings
And repurposed tool steel,

And, south,
Lightning
Pours noiselessly over hills.

There is God of course.
And a family.

They all climb up within him -

Wonders and
Wonders,
The
Recollection of
Wonders.