A crosswind, the Norway’s leaves flash
like sunfish in a man-made pond.
Still waiting for someone to ask
whether I believe in God.
Maple keys footnote the ground.
As a metaphor maker I’m qualified
to point out the asterisks.
A quantum resonance
separates the perfect day
from the perfect day for a funeral.
A question of which question, which universe
I pray the priest at her deathbed
took a moment, fluffed the pillows.
Weeks later four cawing crows
flush a hawk from the now-bare tree
with something unlike fear.
Because because because because because.
This appeared in the October 2016 issue.