Here in the forest of, feeling
all is body language –
The sounds and smells yield a keen awareness –
of the orb-weaving spiders, the dark squeak of the trunks of the
olive trees rubbing against each other –
The begging cries, the alarm calls of baboons,
the tones and trills of birds in spring,
the ancient tortoise carrying the smell of many years of grass,
the sneaky snakes undulating a dance to the rhythm of a Strauss waltz –
And the outbreak of bright lemon-green lichens on a rock outcropping
releasing a tang of thyme –
All these breathing beings are bodies,
distant echoes of mine –
It is expressions of resonance in my flesh,
without the mediation of symbols or metaphors –
It is a song which carries through the subtle angle
of branches and trees –
A checking in with one another,
a sacred language of a keen attunement
In a shared whirling world
