Urgent Care

wind in my ears as if a wood thrush could whisper

i hear someone taking improbably far-apart steps

in the sound of black cherry trees putting their pieces into play

those who like certainty have the solace of mathematics

those who love the wild empty themselves

if my ears conspire to keep me thick-headed

tonight their little begging bowls have returned to primal condition

let me dream too in surround-sound

not of waiting rooms but fireflies on all sides flashing

and the tireless councils of the crickets