Like last year’s leaves we rush
For a place to decompose,
A bit of muddy earth
Or pavement where a cyclone fence
Stops us in clusters.
Then dried to a powder
Before summer winds blow us through a gap
Into right here today.
A billion particles become flesh.
Only hours ago
We clutched tools, strained muscles
Tensioned the very fence that caught us tumbling.
How can we explain it?
We swallow the sun, spit it out, heat the cosmos.
We are the molecules dancing in Buddha’s eyes.
When we call the wind it rushes to us,
When we grasp we lose it all.
A poem first drafted a few years ago, revised today…