Sitting until dark
at the edge of the woods,
things as they are,
the deepening sky,
clarity and emptiness,
the yearning of consciousness
under the forked-river of stars,
here where we are.
The force that flows
from wooded hill to valley ridge,
from horizon to horizon,
flows also through us,
joined as we are
to the ends of the Milky Way,
risen now like the handle of a basket
over our world and its mysteries,
here at the edge of heaven and earth,
here where we are.
