Turn screws and wooden legs a million times a second
Glitter on the bay, like oil
Cattails nod like monks
Humble tonsures blur
Periphery diamonds kiss mercury

Andrew Wyeth, you always move my wife
The right number of birds, proportion of barn to sky

Every afternoon holds rubies, under rocks
In hidden caves, under rocks

Whales too, shiver and roll under a thin layer
So many thin places
So many thin places