Landscape
Isn't it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about
spiritual patience? Isn't it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?
Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.
Every morning, so far, I'm alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky---as though
all night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings.
***
That poem just floors me, with awe. How that woman could pour so much meaning and imagery and 'moment-ness' into so few words... One of the amazing things about it is that it builds with each stanza, starting with the simplicity and almost childlike innocence of the first observation of moss. From there each verse draws more insight until finally landing on Consciousness, itself, in the image of the crows bursting into the sky. Masterful.
