Exploring as driftwood forest trails, up-snailing a sun-wet mountain,
what I thought from afar mirror pond was nearly part fountain,
part stream, a small spring free-offering twin gifts: water strained
from curious soil, and one mysterious voice--a voice that rained
Nature into my mind, and for a few all-too-brief hours
wing-eyed I glided oak gardens, phantom-fanned moon-blushed flowers,
sprouted stone ears so scroll years could be read into minute flesh and bone,
new roots revealing: graves never seal--universe eternal hearth and home--
time-treaded veins quick-change into rivers, my soul ground,
all-around range heartbeats of seed-life, sprite sound
and petal sights better felt as a green leaf summer breeze--
floored by this cosmic reef I fall to my knees,
grateful the Self-created Creator fated me to altar this now-sacred place
where I vow to be myself and everywhere see myself, feeding my faith in Race.
Hillgrimage
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