Contemplation by Water

This is how I spend the days– nothing
is for sure   or    what it seems
in the sacred web    as morning

flowers
into sun–      I stand
at
a window
watching
herons
out to sea

the scent of wisteria over water
moves in the fine yellow Gobi dust of China
trees fill the air ever-green

I hope for nothing, dream everything
into being– or do I only wonder, I question

not if world peace
is
unattainable

if Darwin or Intelligent Design should be
taught to children, but rather
should I meditate by the river

swim
in the glaring sun
and let go— in the current

mystery?

the third eye sees in and through me
the warnings of wren and jay
are not song
but will and blood

mind turning
heart
heart feeding     the mind of       a child.

I find everything comes to me exactly as it is
if I go to it    precisely as I am     then
there is no watching out or looking in at dawn

 

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