beginning with a line from Li-Young-Lee

The first sky is inside you—
first wind and wing: 

coral lightning, prayer stalk,
chunks that glut the prairie. 

Corn tufts, soy shoots, shifting
drifts of blaze/glazed 

river, glad ground cut
to sheaths by water. 

Loam of too-much-thinking,
loam of approaching sea, runnels 

stuffed with it, lucky sky
upended—all of it throbbing.