As a person without faith
It bothers me to think
Of the Wonders of the World, and realize
There was a time when earthly wonder wasn’t enough.
People must have needed something more mystical
Less mentally accessible—
Like a memory following brain surgery
Or the funeral of someone important but not
They needed a blur to augment the incomprehensibility
Of enjoyment, an anti-science to assist in
It is spring and a banal gang of four winds
Crashes the morning
And takes over the windows.
They have the logistics of a cluttered play
Whose stage hands fell in love with the sets and couldn’t
Bring themselves to strike them.
They looked at the scene and put up with
What it said about them:
However much of this spring moon—
It begins hot in center, hotter still along the warped edge.
But that part that runs over, toppling the cool toppled