Jenny Lake and the Destruction of the Sky

The deception of winter ate the summer breeze
On lakes like plates and ferries like silver complacencies

And I served as one bite, frisking way into forest;
Her stomach’s aggravation, a dissonance in her digestion chorus

She had laid for me a hike to my own Sinai
Left me fixed at Inspiration and brought me one step more to die

Though in the beginning, were I at the atrium of the trees?
A beatific nature parlor and corresponding living room breeze?

Had She made me a resident of such resonance,
A regular, feng shui, predecessor; lover of altiloquence?

I am mistaken, and as I feel at home, my residence is complacent,
She makes herself my bride, and not with myself have I felt such a stasis

Where we all became paperweights to keep Her beauty on course
The Earth became a parchment, its rivers ink recording Her worth

Even then, I looked myself over to make sure I didn’t amount to more
And it seemed so breaking stride to take for granted such a tour

Aye, there was some comely feeling of destiny in this place
It so countered my valediction and greeted me with emollient haste

She laid me on my back so I could feel myself looking towards the sky
And know that indeed the feeling was my commandment here on this Sinai

Now looking ever upward, still smiling at the scene
The sky’s new birth in morning; though at sunset it still bleeds

And dark beyond our hours, where we have to adapt to know
Though death evolves beyond us, there’s life with us below