Here is the Turning Point

In the riverside grasses
where the horses graze
I’m laying lazy under my
summer oak umbrella.
The clouds are steaming
up and closing in the sky
that bright blue opening.

Without a paddle a canoe
is floating on the whirling
waters. Here all Beings
are together intertwined:
this seeping brook, that
fishers cabin, the magic
oak, the cormorant. Here
can I bend my neck to
rest, here Is the Turning
Point: the place that now
will join the pieces, torn
apart by sheer ambition,
blind desire, whim or
must, or what on my
unfaithful ways was
craving, silent begging
for such Moment to be
Real in Happening &
Stay forever sealed in
to the deepest breathing
of my river heart. Its
rhythms are released,
they know where we
belong: It’s up Here in
the Riverside grasses
where the horses graze.

(tynvdb/130814)