I tried to imagine
that the hills were priests in
long green robes, joining hands in prayer but

it turned out they were just hills.

I tried to imagine that
your yellowthroat was some sort of
calling, the up and down a    holiness
rejoicing

it turns out, it was a song your mother used to sing
holy to you, but to me it was
just a song

I tried to imagine
there was a hand holding mine, and
I was right - it was

the left holding
the right.