Distance

The seas in the moon that sink down, depths darkened and bitter and gray in the distance, mottled by space, by emptiness, by open sky that presses down and forms bruises, deep impressions that glow unbearable in the distance, can you feel it, distance darkened by empty sky, by the movement of birds, by the dance of the poplar’s angular branches as they scrape the gray air, the pre-rain wind, ancient and humid and stirring and about to brush through, tussled, waving, condensed and then all at once open, from branch to branch, from sky to sky, deep wind from the river swells, from the sea and the distant sun that brushes wild over the earth.