Like moving
the wings
and cloudlets
of our history
the futurists
turn back to
acknowledge
the high art
embodied
in you,
Angelus Novus
speak to us
of all possibilities
on an unshaven
earth time span
where the voice
of fern and grass
belongs to us,
the ocean is clear
for salmon
whale and dolphin,
unpolluted city masks
now familial
be removed,
for wheat and grains
to again grow
on threshing floors.

—