Nature harbors no opinions;
it is we who think of her.
We make sentience
of her indifference, and we communicate
by engineering, adjectives, and awesome
violence. When I arrive
at the island, my soul
will harbor no opinions.
I’ll stop my car
where sea-air and sand-light
become one perception,
all the world my affections, stitched together
by a muster of billboards, the dizzying gulls,
and a drawbridge open in prayer.