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I’m not the one for the big idea, Those cold fronts moving in over the waters with the clouds That sleep their way across the sky, The air growing dim and cool. So much quiet here, Laid down by God all over the earth To echo in the absence of love, To grow in an orchard’s line, Guiding us to the ends and means To build those towers high. Under this bridge that spans the width of the bay In a boat that soughs and creeks, Cars thundering overhead to places like home, In the arms of people without names Or pasts, no stories to tell, Only those familiar touches to assure them that they breathe.” ~excerpt from “Oxygen,” as seen in Husk
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