Down to the dregs
at the muddy bottom of
the bandwidth, down
this narrow passage between
streets and intersections,
water birds above the tree line
some bright reminder how
the sky gets to be that blue,
kingfisher and egret, a sheen of
green, a sweep of white,
these reminders of the transitive
nature of the map, the signal
sent symbol to symbol,
a poem you live to witness
more or less, until
the last star is fit to fall.
