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