De pictura

There is the pavement,
A little like hide
In afternoon sun,
Low afternoon sun.

And there, beyond it,
Is gravel and mud,
Which could be God’s voice
Explaining the world,

If anyone could
Think of God as world,
And not some person
Booming person things,

Just gravel and mud,
Repetitive but
Every bit distinct,
The voice of the world,
And beyond it grass,

Golden in the sun,
Early winter straw
Snow could bury soon,
And beyond that, scrub,

Such silvery brush
And spindly saplings,
And beyond that, dark
Juniper-piñon,

Not even a jay
Perched on top of one,
Just the trees, quiet
Without any wind,

Which could also be
The voice of the world,
Silent when its waves
Spread out nearly flat.

Never mind the voice.
Another person
Trope. One juniper
Looms. That’s perspective.