[ The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas,
Annihilating all that's made
To a green thought in a green shade.
Andrew Marvell ]
[ Green, I want you green.
Green wind. Green branches.
Federico Garcia Lorca ]
***
For a long time I
stand at the oak's foot
asking it
What can you tell me of
time weather
Its heartbeat doesn’t stop
It moves ahead in
its rooted place
swaying its canopy in the wind
Dark wind Bright wind
It never says a word
It just keeps talking
***
In order to make sense
of the ground
I build an earthen hill and sit upon it
The ants welcome me as their brother
Bees radiate out in golden circuits
while above the oaks' light-hungry leaves
spread wide The clouds
call me
changing their forms
Each day I visit my mound
till one day the rains come
Then I float
happy and wet
among the tadpoles' delight
the moccasins’ white-mouthed praise
***
I ask the wind to carry me
and it does
Opening my catkins
I make it rain yellow
I make sunshine into powder
***
I open Nature’s book
finding:
The more I know
The less I know
Finding under the oak:
“majesty in a creeping snail”
“deliberation” “seriousness”
“shyness and yet
what absolute trust”
“the deeply slumbering spirit within”*
***