How the landscape changes
With the moving seasons…
No rebirth without dying
Water and cut grass
Shoulder-high saplings
And all the encounters with pain.
The piercing shrieks of white gulls
Plunging, and us happy to disintegrate
Why is it that in nature
The lost are found, and dying
Is grand and mollifying and fearless
Like an embrace?
Blessed solitude that transcends
Loneliness and need
Feeding, soothing, nursing
The lightness of your being and
The fullness of your light.
Critters, short-legged, short-lived
Going about their business
Without
Bitterness.
Writer Between Worlds 