the work of the sun

            is wine on my skin

and summer heat in my veins

            the work of the sun

is with the roots of the river

            and cannot be lifted into light

the work of the sun

left my father an orphan

trespassing within his own blood

the work of the sun

is what the house finch is saying

and what i am saying

to ourselves and to all others

the word you came from

will rise again