god spoke to me today on the white noise wind
channeling through the late winter branches
of the trees still standing
god the mother earth, she said
none of you are ready for this
touched my neck with a cool elegance
what i have in store, not one of you

the neighborhood is picking up sticks in the yard
they're out jogging, hello, they're out
pedalling their tricycles with mom just behind
and all of them not looking skyward
because who can look into the sun
after all, for very long,

this tree from your childhood, uprooted
this section of fence lying embarrassed among its kind
there are plenty of trees and fences still standing
but the message came through
i could scrub this landscape clean

you are not ready for what i can do
not by a long shot