The sense of things not yet lost

Words are in the trees
and they assimilate in the falling pollen 
it’s in the child’s laughter 
in the thick rays of palpable light 
floating through the Particle mix 
a subtle music of math 
numbers that are words 
and words that are numbers 
Those Eternal equations 
That make up the music 
which is the background 
of all existence

I drive at night 
the windows down 
worried spirits may jump in 
demons lurking in the woods 
or phantoms lingering in the air. 
The sense of fanged things behind me 
yet I don’t panic
I almost enjoy the cool summer air 
and the sense of things not yet lost 
burnt down flooded cities 
in the depths 
of our resurrection