the heavens flutter there and the waters
gush like beer
leap in that river the bellied
bursting Pyvesa, the Lord’s
round face shines
and it and the meadows are happy
as the hops weave round
the young ox’s horns
the hoops barely hold back the pressure
the taps strain to shoot out
hold this world, men,
more tightly in your arms
keep safe the spreading sprout
the song to the heavens
of that which just flutters and gushes
where there never will be still more