Acoustics

How Delicately

day shifts in its bed,
while you sit in a car, feeling neither one thing
not the other, but tending

towards the graver end, despite
sky pulling all the stops out -- great gulps
or coral-white world-breath,

aspiring to bulbous domes, though blurred
grey in places, dragging those little nets
you'd hardly notice

till one comes trailing the tips
of its fingers over the car roof, making a brief
instrument of the room, in which you sit

suddenly lightened, elated even,
your tapped skull ringing with an airy tin-
tinnabulation.


Actually wrote this in the car while looking out at this shifting view. Notice the kite-surfer to the right: what makes it I think.