the song


one cold night
frost and wind
worked their way
inside a tiny hairline fracture
and separated these two
portions
of rock

~

the pine needles
gathered in and around
and the moss
threaded its way
across the space
frond by frond
until once more
the two were connected
as intimately
as one


and the
humming of the earth
and the whispering of the sky

the singing of the birds
and the chattering of the little animals
was the music
that sang the song
of their love

a moment's clarity

above


and below



the conjoined terms
of our being

we are
a fractal essence
of the wholeness
we intuitively
grasp
in that moment
of clarity
as our reflected face
emerges
in
the convoluted surface
of a river

vapour threads


look up
and see
one hundred wishes
leaving
vapour threads
stitched
across the sky

grace

in a quiet space

by the side
of a well-beaten path


returning to the earth

gracefully


the basic goodness of a place


to remember
the basic goodness
of this place

walk down a path
of copper brown pine needles
on a warm day

and
stand
in the shadows
of their mothers and fathers