Even Psalm

Smog today, but I saw your wink in the pink 
light of the peaks above it, heard your chuckle 
in the plumes of trumpets and under-the-skin 
drums of the high school marching band 
practicing four blocks away. I felt you 
at church yesterday in the glittering silent air 
after the last notes of the organ solo, that 
silent tolling wind that unfurled in the curls 
of even old snoring Sister Bea, carbonating 
our blood so that even the teenagers 
glanced up from their phones, all of us 
clanging, goose-bumped, rapped. Evening, 
I sense you, nappy and wild, dancing 
in the cat’s yawn, the cut grass and the moths, 
lantern-drunk at the windowscreen. Holy 
jack-in-the-box, strewer of breadcrumbs: 
when I catch sight of your hem, for a time 
I fear no evil.