Perhaps a cloudless sky beyond,
Hoverflies holding their space,
High summer woods.
Midsummer fire
Between rooted earth and receiving sky -
Raising kundalini
In the chalice of the wood’s embrace.
Yah!
At the gate
Summer’s midpoint,
Where ancestors stretch time backwards
And future, yet womb wet still –
Oh joy unbound, the pulsing flow!
Neither seeking answers nor questions,
Amongst the dry leaves
A blackbird searching out his own truth.
Humbled by acceptance
Gracious thanks to one’s sensei.
The soft explosion
Of a wild strawberry on the tongue
Of a wild strawberry on the tongue
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