Someone says wing, and I watch the light
Grow deeper, the eclipsing crosshatches of birds
Return from their dark portal.
Everyone is always telling me
That there’s no joy in stillness,
In the calm waters where the feather falls.
Make waves they say,
Conquer and expel, grasp the ocean
In your hands and drink its depths.
But maybe, on some days,
When the burning has ceased,
I want to watch the surface light
Playing for no reason,
Want to watch the architectures
Built and disassembled
By the snow itself,
Or the moon generously
Giving its image
To each municipality of glass.
In secret, everything adds value
And creates something from nothing.
This is the real mathematics
Hidden in the heart.
The equation the wind settles
When it rains a cascade of flowers
Across our fastened doors.