"fine"

When I say a fine day, a fine
morning, when I respond that I am

"fine,"

I do not mean okay.

Or passing middling. I mean:

Fine. Like fine things, fine
like treasures of rare work
and craft, like sunsets and smoke rings;
fine, like the sea at noon so bright,
so swathed in dancing carpets of glittering white
diamond sparks that the midnight blue deep
between those close-packed stars
seems as dark and as black as space -

fine. Like the fog of golden dust,
filtering into a redwood cathedral,
hung in silent still rays
as the sun stops in,
to pray.