Raven, Pronghorn, Lizard, Ground Squirrel, Deer

And so forth. Everyone's trying
To cross the road and aspiring
To some immortality rare
And strange. Even the rocks are scared

From their nooks and crannies by spring.
Every trembling thing is tumbling

Down out of their quiet, winter lairs,

Except flies rising in the air

To screw and argue. Encircling
Our bed with their constant whirring
Through sunlit gaps, up holy stairs,
They buzz hosannas. I don't care.