Thirst

 

Thirst

 

I love the idea

don’t you

of cupping the water from the cauldron

after the night of rain

and the day of rain

and when the dark comes again

and as if the earth had opened its door

to view

the secrets briefly

that sort of dark that is a fragrance as well

and a perception, something like

the trust of a favor from one

to another and the other

not mucking it up 

sensing see the great cost

of it glowing against the broad

now clear now black sky

with its one close eye

that is open almost all the way

and this is where I like the idea

you’re still

with me I like the idea

of cupping my hands into the rain

barrel and letting the water rest

there long enough

& if I’m careful & calibrated

& you are at hand

to see it

the moon is

in the palms of me

& you lean in & whisk & wick the water into you

the way orchids do

& it becomes you

you who have the water and the moon

taken into you almost

forgive me my thirst, 

filling you

 

 

Arriving

 

 Arriving      

 

Such comfort in the bee

who, between the blooming

 

blooms, is seeking her sweet

gauzy drop of nearly

 

honey.  She is

homed here.  Didn’t the face

 

of the sun-

flower open for just this

 

moment with the bee,

this particular bee,

 

rich with her purses of pollen,

the dusts of thousands

 

of teachings stippling her

buzz and humming rise?

 

Tell me, isn’t the richness all the more

important because of her

 

needing to leave

the flower and take

 

on the risk of wind and being

heaved off course,

  

and doesn’t she survive because

of the pollen?  Watch this rising & falling

 

 / \

rising        

falling  

                     

                                   \ /

rising

falling

  

and see in it something very simple.

Feel it buzz.  Feel the buzz beginning

 

to rain on you, which when falling,

hear it? feel it?

 

sounds very much

like applause.