|
|
Shaggy bulls philosophize under yellow trees
while calves buck at a bent stick
as if it were a snake.
Walk to the shore of the lake.
Pick up a rock. Skip it.
Imagine, deep in woods, sleeping coyotes. If you squeeze cotton balls into your ears,
the thumb-thump of cars on the bridge
and low hum of electric fencing
will fade to almost nothing.
The snake of our age
will sleep without a care. Make your small sacrifice: a sense of gratitude,
a ground-up beech leaf,
a mental prayer.
August light, like honey in a jar,
drips with belief
the world does not seek to harm you. |
|