The night passes over the hill.
We have recurring dreams;
and if there’s a God, we see it in other people.
The brain becomes what we think,
so none of us can help any of it.
In her gaze a disturbing power;
and under the foaming sea a fire.
It was windy through the night;
a rainbow rose with the morning light.
The stairs that led down
go up along the balcony.