echo

after
the tidal wave breaks
after the tsunami
everything hums
waiting

two car seats
expect passengers
grass
awaits feet

table nearly floats
unladen

animals wander
adrift
pinballs with no bumpers
players gone home.

and yet the fruit ripens on the trees
and tomatoes in the garden;
last week's scraps
crumble in the moist and secret places;

something bends the splint of ash full circle
and the hoop becomes basket
for the harvest yet to come.