Additional Credits:
What is foreground and background shifts
by the minute, repositions us in/
out of the landscape we drive toward/
away from. Between temperate and turbulent,
downpour and fog, the world is still
storm. What we can’t see finally settles
beside us, mist swelling up
the mountain as mystery
and folly, as no choice
but to creep, brakes on,
down and down,
and—look:
the sky.
Praise
be.
