Blue Jay says the rain tastes funny.
The Air got a new feel.
Not new like shiny. New like off
somehow, like the Clouds are confused
and forgot what it means to make love.
The Earth tries to remind them
but they can’t hear her.
It’s not that she’s too far away
or her voice is too soft–
she knows how to project.
But even she can’t be heard
over people and people and people.
Crow says Blue Jay is late–
the Water has been rotten a long time,
but what can be done?
We must drink to live.
The Clouds, heavy with poison,
are still beatiful.
When the Earth speaks to deaf ears,
her voice does not stop being holy.