It is every single tree in my heart, quickly but inevitably stiffening among drops of water and quiet clusters of grass. The seagulls in the streaming water and up on the sky. Which night followed the night? A dark being oozes from my mouth and seems quiet.

The trees. I kissed a summer’s blush of dawn. Now I sail on dawn’s canopy of light.

They turn away from the outer mountains and return to the luminous houses, the noise and their own weird bodies.