This habit of lying on the ground outside
placing my ear to the earth.
So one warm fall day
I found myself in the arboretum,
my face nuzzled into the breath
of the forest floor;
I became intoxicated by
the sweet attar of velvet moss.
The crispness of the quivering leaves
left on the branches, whispered
a lullaby and I, pressed to the world
in its slow wobbling orbit.
was swooned, my eyes closed.
When I dreamed I woke,
there on a burgundy leaf,
a most placid dragonfly settled,
it had come to take company with me.
But I wondered who was in whose dream
– or were we both on the same side of the veil.
Every day, everything changes –
and the more closely I listen,
the nearer the answer of silence.
