The day I discovered the black poplars
massive in their roar
twenty-five years working on the house
while they’d stood by the green river
just the other side of the broken-down fence
and through the willow tangle
and how I'd never sneaked through before
that also rose gusting through me
as I crept down and slithered
grabbed a twisted-over branch
and stood under the host of leaves,
all-praising and gospelling
the ceaseless dazzle of underleaf
like Atlantic gulls on a gale-swept stack
cascading around its stillness.
But let that be...impressions, expressions...
just allow me a standing, a location,
an alignment to the pounding question
as this day implodes into uncertainties.
The trees stream straight purpose;
they are ascending one-pointed into a resounding blue
which suddenly self-presents
and descends to the root.
Thick seething earth, and nothing separate.
And now how it outspreads,
From: Travels in the Middle Land, Dhamma Moon, 2013.