Everything Feels Right

​Everything feels right, everything
Feels complete, moths drink the tears
Of sleeping birds, bears roam through
Labrador, but even they are in arrears

To the sun, to its quarks, to the photons streaming
Through dark space, to its boiling core,
To its coiling corona, to the bee that licks
Turtles’ tears, to the lichen spore,

The tickets to the museum of your own
Elaborate thoughts, give them away,
After all, you own a forest, an orchard,
And a cavern with streaks of radium decay,

In the evening, the sunlight is mauve,
The sea is shadow, the air seeps
Across the city, balconies, poplars,
Muslin curtains blow, the baby sleeps.