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Woodsy Drowsy

Woodsy Drowsy
coleman stove warming tea reading Tao chapter under pine perhaps I will rub ink and scribble the character Jen on dry bark listening to thrush in grass I unroll my rug and answer with my flute piercing deepest Yosemite gorge quivering ear drums of distant critter a squirrel stops motionless mini nostrils flair rapid scamper dance to music of Krishna flute breath lungs full of pine oxygen trees full of our exhale our Oms to my left is pleasant scrub oak bent to the conditions before it awesome looking in the dusk snarled old oak twisted in hardwood abounding in foliation dying in soft debris of its ancestors only to sprout again in a new sun nourished by fresh waters next to my feet is a pond green slime pond tadpole wiggling pool of street drains birds sip the water concentric circles generate from beaks all birds tilt head back to throw water down throat only pidgeon drinks by suction they take a bird flight swig of water and fly to lofts a high nesting in this mystery of impressions not questioning merely existing I gaze horizon-ward and cup hand to light match the cigarette fits my hand as though a part of me the smoke colors my breath grey I see where it goes mixing with earth atmosphere like a glass of Coke poured into the Pacific blending beyond detection a subtle presence to which no geiger counts through faithful perseverence the emblazon orb dematerializes fog drift ionization of Hydrogen/Oxygen providing unobscured view of light fine penetration of ninety-three million miles August 24, 1975

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Revised: Friday, December 14, 2007
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