I.
The wings lifting that fall in thermals and arcing heaves,
single hours of sky that avalanche in streaming light
from mesas and peaks to the heart of matter and chance,
II.
the seen and unseen heights that garden facts on the ground
for the mind falls with sunlight lifting in wings that thicken
with precision between openness and shuddering propulsion
III.
through the genome of forgiveness for whatever failed to work
or became epidemic, fogged out, or what opened and spread
along impulse before drawing back, retracting into a landing,
IV.
for the current seven billion will sleep and then wake, sleep
then wake, each birth into longing that begins in the cells
where it ends, as light and dark will swallow what happens
V.
with what never came to be, living sunlight that has let us
witness through lapses and stands what balances inside
its bearings, where palaces have been built out of capability
VI.
and stay maybe a handful of years before what was forgotten,
unknown, or far from sync bears down, the wings morning
and evening taking the current light into long-term alignment
VII.
of instruments of adaptation, the adjustment of intensity
to cellular discovery that goes on beneath this lifetime
in the practice of intrinsic worth of the interlinked species.