yesterday the sun pulled open the sky –
how deep it goes, how deep the walls
of the hotel, deep in yellow, and today
the leaves are calmer under cloud –
they lean and turn tentatively, but yesterday
they pulsed with molten radiance
of embers, they shone out loud and berries
leapt all over the bushes, live as fingertips
on violin-strings and the sky fell through
many shades of blue all at once
and this morning a woodpecker checked
the substance of the world,
finding it open and solid in many places
with its little tokes,
revealing from the trees the soundboxes
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