I should not be afraid
Of wind-blown branches
Or crashing planes
Shooting stars
Falling satellites
Hundreds of fish
Chunks of ice
Whales and potted plants
Cows and farmhouses
In the air above me
There is no vengeful sky god
These things from the air
Are harmless
Except when they aren’t
And when the wind whips
Through the Ides of March
Or I hear a whining engine
Too low, too low, in a storm
I worry and wonder
If, when our ancestors began
To build their own caves
With sturdy roofs
To keep them safe
It only made
The heavens angrier
I think the sky gods never left
They just got more creative
smitten
