And to this earth
We shall return
Sun lives inside of us too
Let us be
A shimmering
On the surface
Of being
While the hunters’ guns
Echo in the forest below
While ravens discuss the business of skies
While our eyes remain open
For yet another day
Off trail deer trails
Old trails need pruning
Tending hemlock
Branches torn and ragged
Toss to the side to make track
For the bipeds
The old ways cleared
Out
Listen as our steps
Braid together for a while
Medicine hangs from trees
What do you call it
Until it
Speaks its name?
Mosses calling in the autumn
Calling down the snow
Courting the white garment
In which they shall dance
In ermine brilliance
All the dark months through
Long / under / where
Listen as the companions call
We miss so much
Until
we sit still
Om ah hung vajra guru pema siddi hung
Perpetual motion machine of awakening
listen / you
Can hear it now
It was so noisy in there
(They say) that I
Couldn’t hear
Myself think
Wandering
The old
Still paths
What’s that I heard you say?
Still
As in distill
The spirits
Spirit –
Spear it – It
appears
Nothing behind
Or beneath
Appearance
hear
It
Hearing
That which can’t be heard
The land
Sings
There is no word for It
In forest
