Bright Energy

The new green is amused by raindrops.

How they plop, roll, sit and soak.

One droplet magnifies the leaf veins center.

A star, a circle, coming together and

radiating out with the Sun’s bright energy.

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Snowdust

Snow dusting an Appalachian forest, by Don Sniegowski on Flickr

Fine flakes so intricately small they disappear

against bright gray sky, roads and sidewalks.

In this forest, every surface takes some,

except for the creek, which accepts it

as brethren. I extend my bare hands.

 

Transparent Eyeball

I am the mystic of this forest.

I am here and I’m not here.

My bare feet are atoms dissolving into

the atoms of the soil, or perhaps

I am the soil, air, the forest.

 

Inspired in part by this idea from Ralph Waldo Emerson:

“We return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite spaces, — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God.”