I'm listening yet I don't know
If what I hear is silence
Or God.
I'm listening but I can't tell
If I hear the plain of emptiness echoing
Or a keen consciousness that
At the bounds of the universe
Deciphers and watches me.
I only know I walk like someone
Beheld beloved and known
And because of this I put into my every movement
Solemnity and risk.
Spring comes
a smug cliché of fat buds
the earth is getting ready
to spring spring upon us
the birds are making a racket
in the bland air.
Why do I growing old
in all this abundance of life
say to death, move over,
let us sit together a moment
on the doorstep?