calling to me? I can't
but it's there. I don't mean
silk song, but the far-off
of the stars, heaven's slowly turning
playful with its breath;
or standing still
I could put into a pack
on one shoulder,
While everything else continues, unexplained
to follow a thought quietly
I have done this a few times.
in the middle of the world, breathing
but breath and light, wind and rain.
I simply go on drifting, in the heaven of the grass
and the weeds.