In the night the air is heavy

yet how it sings, the traffic thinned still whisks
the rain off the slick black back of Portland Avenue
like heavenly music and heavily through the window glass comes,
my own gut like a fine guitar reaches out
its fleshly grain all a-quiver; the night is dark, dark
and deep as the earth how will you know above
from below?
there are scarce lines here with heaven reaching down
each molecule of air, moving through this breath, incarnate
enfleshed
holy angelsong,
oh peace upon this earth!