Down Where the Violas Breathe

Down where the violas breathe
On the undertone of frontal breezes
Where a paw's sharp click calls brick
The edge of the known world--
Where tigers fly in scarlet armor--
Where the the stories creep in the shadows
Like wary anoles--
Down there, on the silver concrete
That breaks in floes
Just beneath the bushes--
There is the archipelago of weather
Where we watch the hummingbirds
Drinking in the wake of hurricanes;
There we watch the waters fall
As if underneath a mountain;
There we trace the vine's branches
That tie the pots in uncertain rafts
Of dragon, chrysanthemum, and lily--
There we will go when the story begins,
Cast off from the landing where all boats
Launch, from the edge of a continent
That rose up from a grassy sea.