Spiritual Resourcefulness

by Michael Biehl

Every time the world ends,
he breaks out in loneliness,
like chickenpox. Then the world–wheel,
creaking, turns again, not like clockwork,
more like guesswork —
and the latest pockmarks commence
to melt.
Last night he heard a beaver
slap the river
with its rich, old tail.
But that might have been one of his rich, old dreams.
No matter. A dream is real
when it has to be.