Last night I drove up on the ridge between the lakes,
In the solitude on the seasonal road,
Soon to close in winter’s snow,
The bowl of night encompassed all there was,
A full moon bathed the landscape in
Daylight, it was such a moon as that,
A universe according to its rhythm
In one swift moment then
Spilled upon me a revelation:
That I am of and in
This space of dust and light,
For there, in empty pastures, cloaked
In winter’s coming on
I felt of life, among the spirits from the fading stalks,
Goldenrod unblooming and dewberries gone,
The clumping of the earth
Shielding shoots and seeds within,
Until comes a spring that cold has made
Forgotten now.
Uneasy these few weeks, distracted and uncertain
And too much touched by what I can’t explain,
All gentled down and washed away into the balance
Of what has been, and what will be,
My own connectedness.
The winds come up, soon calm descends,
Full moons arrive, inexorable and pacing surely,
And there I understood, illuminated in
Those now-quiet summer pastures,
That all mystery of completed place was
Perfected in
My beating heart.
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