“For example, what the trees do not only in lightning storms or the watery dark of a summer’s n… or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now—whenever

She steps into the dark swamp where the long wait ends. The secret slippery package drops to the weeds. She leans her long neck and tongue…

Come with me into the field of sunflowers. Their faces are burnished disks, their dry spines creak like ship masts,

Meditation is old and honorable, s… not sit, every morning of my life,… looking into the shining world? Be… attended to, delight, as well as h… Can one be passionate about the ju…

Scatterghost, it can’t float away. And the rain, everybody’s brother, won’t help. And the wind all these… flying like ten crazy sisters ever…

From a single grain they have mult… When you look in the eyes of one you have seen them all. At the edges of highways they pick at limp things.

At Blackwater Pond the tossed wat… after a night of rain. I dip my cupped hands. I drink a long time. It tastes like stone, leaves, fire. It falls…

Needing one, I invented her— the great-great-aunt dark as hicko… called Shining-Leaf, or Drifting… or The-Beauty-of-the-Night. Dear aunt, I’d call into the leav…

The spirit likes to dress up like this: ten fingers, ten toes, shoulders, and all the rest

Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who make the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories,

The feet of the heron, under those bamboo stems, hold the blue body, the great beak above the shallows

Today again I am hardly myself. It happens over and over. It is heaven-sent. It flows through me like the blue wave.

Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun

The first fish I ever caught would not lie down quiet in the pail but flailed and sucked