I can feel the sky falling in
all at once and everywhere.
The birds have come down
from the trees and buildings,
they’re brooding together in groups.
Oiled and wet, unspeaking
they’re waiting for God to come.
For God who talks on his radio
to all his radio stations,
who pulls the sun in and out
moves the clouds around and empties rain;
who watches the sky as it falls.
I’m getting colder.