Saint

A spirit jumping from cumulo to nimbus:
lightning follows in its wake.
You, awake and dreaming, sense the other
world imposed in a brilliant second.
You, here and elsewhere,
are the saint that can see.

A billion songs driving into the earth,
dust rising and settling in their craters.
You, dimly away, hum along
to an impossible sonata.
You, here and elsewhere,
are the saint that can sing.

Good night, always a good night,
we are all together, hunkered down,
waiting for your windows to
subside, to darken.
We, here and elsewhere,
honour the saint that notices
little things.

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