after mind-melding with a doe
at Natural Root Bridge Creek,
these feet carried me
past geese and fishermen
to Pine Terrace Observatory.
There, “Hawk of the Pines”
(my ‘muse,’ for you Jungians)
circled through, casting a flurry of shadows,
piercing the air with her many ‘Pay Attentions!’.
Ground-bees prepared their dwellings by swarm and arrangement.
Ants marched along leaf ridge
like a tribe setting out on a great migration.
lifted their florets to the sun
as an offering.
Downed poplars and pines
from last year’s wind storms
disintegrate and feed “the newcomers.”
Everything is on about the business of being,
adhering to their way-within-the-Way.
Us, too, of course,
whether or not we know it.
It has been said that
with the way of knowledge
something is added each day
but with the Way of Dào
something is removed.
I’ve traded in all my statues and sutras
in exchange for rain buckets and watering cans.
The only enlightenment that interests me now
is the luminosity emitted from the inside of things
when the sky turns dark and the clouds roll in,
heavy and wonderful.