Familiar furnishings: power lines and fast clouds overhead,
Black heifers browsing scrub desert below, mutely
Ever-changing mountains dead ahead, top halves today
In snow. Body pulled the car over to contemplate everything
Good and true, not separately but where the vast Venn circles
Overlapped in a sliver like the rounding error of a nearly
Departed eclipse. It was both good and true to be under
The brilliant sky on another big windy day, true and good
To be warm and fed and capable of savoring the scene.
Outside of this edge between Nevada and Utah, outside
Of this elderly, still-purring car, outside of the overlapping
Spheres of passing contentment, passing storm front
Over the ruffled heifers among the knob-headed Joshua trees,
Lurked many minatory truths, sure, and fluttered many moths
Of good and pretty falsehoods, such as that this world meant
Any one being well, such as that body had been a good man.
Never mind for now. Here we were, the light not gone out,
The options, however small in the carefully cupped palm,
Not none. In the balance, body blessed the afternoon
And the afternoon did not demand the end. Amen.
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