for everything which is yes

The horizon burned
a sharp orange: paper flaming
from the edge inward.

Ordered to recall
the burning once found there, he
drinks them to forget.

The billow of cloud
caps the roof-ridge like a line
of purple tree tops.

I will simply sip
my tea; the storm speaks enough
for the both of us.

One pinch of hair tucked
behind the ear. Sometimes that’s
all it really takes.

Unlikely heroes
seem like fools. They’re far from them.
We’ll miss you, Ozzie.

its dying refuse-
al reconfigures a com-
pliant nature