Invitation

Walking on the road today I stumbled
on an invitation.
It was spelled out in loud skywriting:
A hundred birds were birding in the air.
Ten thousand raindrops rained through it.
A million billion particles of everything
were particling into nothing in particular.
Listen! Can you hear God laughing
from your belly?
The world, if it should still go by that name,
has turned inside out like a glove
and rolled over.
Now is a good season.
The whirling world comes to rest
adrift, at home.
Hollowness speaks, when it does.
Sometimes it dances, plays or eats.
Always moving. Nothing going nowhere.
Nothing mine.