beside the moonstreaked pond,
fireflies for eyes,
wearing the humble wind
as gown, or shroud, or veil,
knowing the darker water
where the cove is concealed
beneath tree umbra−
witness of moon setting,
witness of moon rippled pond,
witness to moonspots on
the flank of the drinking fawn,
breaking the black water surface,
breaking the dark umbra of my
water-born silence−
my feet becoming roots,
my legs becoming tree trunks,
my arms becoming branches,
fingers leaves, my blood
drawing up the water,
my voice becoming the voice
of wind speaking in leaves−
my thoughts in these fireflies,
my memories in this lichen,
my mind in this creek
that ripples stones and joins
the darkening pond−
to give meaning to it all,
to give up meaning for it all−
to be blind with the moonset,
with the rising of ground fog
from memory of a warmer day
meeting colder night−
to be gathering crystals of dew
to jewel on my still form
in a posture of sitting.
