by Paul Bills
Steel beasts in the sky are our slaves
bringing us ocean breakfasts, mountain lunches;
the dough and its yeast separate over continents
like the baker has too much on His mind.
And so our trees grow fuller fruits
but longer branches.
***
Life is simple mysteries
killed if simply solved:
Neither gemstone nor seashell matters
when we’ve lost water and ground.
When we can’t catch up with all the growing spaces,
like bookends, we’re limitless and nothing.