exposure

do not forget to pause and let the light

green under canopy of ancient trees

keep us all unexpected at our ease

(since none of our predicament is slight)

rather than poised for fearful urgent flight

our bodies trembling with more than the breeze

as the wise voices say that on our knees

is the one posture to await the night

there is no coming back to a safe place

when once you’ve risen through the turbulence

to reach the one true thing you must recall

no matter the incitement or disgrace

the angry shouts that gradually lose sense

in the bright moment between spring and fall

On a summer Saturday

The white gaulin's uninterrupted flight
from past the woods, then down towards the stream,
not easy caught. A solitary beam
of afternoon sun carries my delight
that world and season are, at last, turned right,
while silver fountain bears an honest gleam
as heated breezes purify the stream.
No one is worried by the coming night.
So, in the music, this is where we rest
while in the harder places war is fought
over the meanings of important things.
I will not fuss about a noisome pest
nor give its bird-brained maundering a thought.
Instead, I'll sit a while, then go to eat.
The morrow is for worry. Now life's sweet.