The endless minutiae of empire

Afterrain

When the sun comes, birds beat
wet leather against stone in the
wood. Captains of industry emerge
from hives and holes to recommence
the endless minutiae of empire.

When sun comes, photosynthesis
calls oakgrass up to feed and sing
in spectral light registers. Snails set
sail across tidal lawns, their wakes
streaming 93 million miles across.



When sun comes, water and gravity
settle all accounts, drip by latent drip,
disburse and dispense until all is
drawn to the center of swallowing,
absorption, evaporation, Earth.

When sun comes, poets pour rays
through their pens, go with eyes
closed or open to where they stood
but hours before praising winter
miracles in the ordinariness of rain.

Joseph Gallo
January 23, 2010