Here the rain dancer casts down his fingers Like rain shafts, feet beating the earth; Not by will but willingness to imitate An end to the slavery of prediction.
Here the sky is a great counterweight, Pressing the oceans and mountains into motion, The wind feeding the candle in the darkness.
Here a girl walks a street, returning from church; A volcano remembers it magma; In the Pleiades a star explodes.
Here in the gap between morning and evening I write the words, summer, sun, laughter, mercy, Your arm over your face as if in sleep. This is plenty. I write, This is enough.
About the author: Daniel James Sundahl is Professor in English and American Studies at Hillsdale College where he has taught for thirty years.