I enter the season of floods with redemptive thoughts
For houses planted in waterways.
A piece of a cloud has broken through my window.
A path clears where my heart should be.
That’s no place to put a road.
Cerulean skies exit the foot of my bed, heaving
My mind wells to disorderly heights.
I’ve slept on hard water,
My things are in the gutter.
The neighbourhoods are awash
With muddy children trying to unstick
Strong cars from the earth.