Industry

I arrive 

in the office

in a cloud of woodsmoke

and my eyes 

are still back where the dawn

lifts from the river.

I am going to build

the next workspace

under the trees and the sky 

not in this block of industry 

where the asphalt spreads out

in every direction. 

I need 

a thousand more hours

free where the land lies

soft under our feet like a song 

in our circle of friendship

with the fire burning between us 

to heal me from the burning gaze

of technology 

shining upon me

tomorrow

I will run down the hill

towards the light rising 

tomorrow

I will not need to pad 

the space around me with poems

to keep from doing myself

an injury.