Sometimes, like an Andy Goldsworthy
assemblage, You take us to the very edge
of our collapse. And when it happens,
and the ice is eaten away by its own melting,
and the wind takes the straws, there You are,
ready to rebuild with endless patience.

You splint the cracked bones, tether
the shaky spirits. Even as it crumples
You plan the reconstruction of the body,
resurrecting it for new resilience, a shape that
brings You pleasure, lets You sit back, exuberant,
“That’s it. Hold it right there! Breathe.”