Stone canoes dug deep enough can float
But skin stretched over wooden bones
Floats high and carries lighter
Across sand bars and forest trails
And if capsized bobs up and pulls
Easily to shore to be reentered
It’s cold in night’s unbound horizons
Filled with rocks and nuclear upheavals
Too dim or too ill imagined to possess
What reason reasons being
Rarer things bear consciousness
Wolves and cats and birds and fish
Insects that crawl or fly or web
Or change mid life to soar in yellow beauty
All aware as god is and unaware too
A single one adds scripture to the theme
To elevate itself above the rest
Each awareness exits skin or shell
As if from an overturned canoe
And buoys back onto the firmament
To reconstitute those sensitivities
Without which nothing is
Not even god
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