Golden lace.
sunrise pours slantwise
into clear water
through the blue spruce,
the deep tangle of pine
and purled woodsmoke.
I turned
and the earth hushed.
While I leaned into silence
a morning too vast to fathom
filled with light.
I have a feeling that my boat has struck, down there in the depths, against a great thing. And nothing happens! Nothing ...
Silence ... Waves ...
Nothing happens? Or has everything happened,
and are we standing now, quietly, in the new life?