Heaven on Earth

Now that it is night,
you fetch the wash
from outer space,

from the frozen garden
filmed like a kidney,
with a ghost in your mouth,

and everything you hold,
two floating shirts,
towels, tablecloth, a sheet.

ignores the law of gravity.

Only this morning,
the wren at her millinery,
making a baby’s soft bonnet,

as we stopped by the spring,
watching the water
well up in the grass,

as if the world
was teething.
It was heaven on earth

and it was only the morning.