In Fields of August


I see a hummingbird

hovering in a beam of sunlight

eternity in a moment.


I hear the singing wind

playing tree and dry grass instruments

same singings my ancestors heard.


I feel the earth and sky

beating heart and whispering spirit

groanings of earth, calls of heaven.


I know at life-road’s end

leaving flesh, failures and fruitions

is required and I know that love

is the only luggage the journey allows.

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