Standing up on lifted, folded rock
looking out and down -
The creek falls to a far valley,
hills beyond that
facing, half-forested , dry
- clear sky
strong wind in the
stiff glittering needle clusters
of the pine - their brown
round trunk bodies
straight, still,
rustling trembling limbs and twigs
listen.
This living flowing land
is all there is,
forever
We are it
it sings through us -
We could live on this Earth
without clothes or tools!
~Gary Snyder

Thursday, November 15, 2007
Standing up
Labels: poetry | Hotlinks: DiggIt! Del.icio.us
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