I was trying to write about ***.  
it’s not like I was planning to be there.
I had a cotton ball in my hand; I walked out.
a bird circled high.  
I could hear my garage door surrender itself, flatly,
to a low heaven.
I was sad not to have the work of my arms behind me.
sad god would not once be startled by an animal.
the leg of my pants drooped from the mouth of my mailbox.
gentle cloud, and I quote

I thought of you in uniform and was copiously delivered.