Lush leaves cannot lift, cannot stir.
They breathe, though hushed.
I too breathe, though hushed.
Soot-gray clouds hang low, while drama of rain whispers,
Through the daily intrusion of white noise,
I stop, and the moment stops with me.
I hear the important discourse of fair egrets,
My eyes reflect the graceful flight of skimming herons,
I see the scurrying for shelter on ant highways and hills,
My ears perk to the chittering of gossiping squirrels,
While curly-tailed lizards sail by, imparting their mystic wisdom,
To the daylight, as it transforms from blue to white to gentle yellow,
The ether speaks in rolling rumbles and sharp electric bursts,
A warm drop kisses my upturned face, caressing it.
I stand, washed, in the midst of eons of sentience,
In the midst of all that ever was,
And, whatever comes, I know there is abiding peace,
In the foreverness of this, my becalmed soul.