Einstein, his tired round eyes
and hair like light shot about his skull,
said we come into this world uninvited
unwillingly. To this earth we open damp,
lashes waking into a new dream. This one, Lucifer
falling, shame following us down, its hands
knotted in our hair and waiting ahead: bent
figure in the bend of some known road. We love
our mothers and milk, the crook of her elbow,
take first steps on wet grass, trips out to see the ocean
and to see the waves that never finish, the wind
that puffs the sails. It is this clean and frail day
receiving us. A treble of morning light and I come
trekking, sand on my feet, blades of grass giving,
the dust and ash lit up in air. So simple and
changing. The dog on the porch sighs,
rolling happy in a pasture dream. It is
larger than this, but not so different.