Everyone has their habits
Mine is composing verse
Everything else has faded away
But this weakness alone
Has stayed with me
Whenever I come across
A beautiful scene
I want to do right
As I would with friend or kin
To sing aloud or make note
About this encounter
With divine mystery
Whether I'm floating down river
Or resting half way up the mountain
When a new poem
Presents itself
Or alone on the path
Hiking up the eastern cliff
Resting my body
Against the white rock
That overlooks the precipice
And clinging to the branches
Of a laurel tree
My wild song
Shatters the peace
Of the ravine below
The birds and apes
All cry in response
Whether they're
Scared or laughing
I can't be sure
And the suddenly
The world seems
Uninhabited
As if I'm the last man
On the face of the earth
No comments:
Post a Comment