And to and fro went birds on the wing,
And leaves all tumbled down singing summer . . .
A single leaf brushed the windowpane—a mirthful,
Spiral dance to the wilted grass, content in having
Known seasons and skies, having done its part.
I shut my eyes, breathed my way into the moment,
Let drop the binding chains of control and choice.
They popped on the grass like child-blown bubbles,
Released a primeval song buried deep in silence.
So I went out to hear it, to gather it in my arms
And toss it high above my head to fill the valley.
Now, a winter wind blows over the home,
And to and fro go birds on the wing,
And snowflakes all twirl down singing summer . . .
A bit of the mystery come and gone;
A little kept
(From the book Wilderness & Love)