MAN BECOMES

I walk with Mount Lemon and
feel small in my own witness
wandering past ant hills lines of ants
two wide thousands long
coming & going beneath the lonely star
red bodies on fire eyes miniscule
beads of time burning crawling
beneath my vision in the
midst of Mount Lemon's shadow.

The dance of bats in midnight
moonlight man becomes a stoking something
else entirely I become an image embraced by water
and light therefore animated with the motion
and rhythm of the living. There are many
ways to make a fist many ways to listen
to the heart's music beating brightly
torn from my chest by finch feathering
the fence line three times every hour.

If we are to be anything
let us be this journey. No gods
to ask thanking this one life,
all living beings sustained
by the natural flow and rhythm
of living breathing vibration,
clouds passing in the night.