a day: shining, moist and slightly warm.
the grass: a crystal green.

an ant, large and black
climbs a blade
of this crystal green grass.
climbs fast but quite deliberately, its feelers quivering with the deep intensity of its purpose.

all around the incandescent green day buzzes with a million sights, sounds, smells....
but the ant only climbs
and climbs,
higher
and higher....
i'm agog with suspense: what drama waits to unfold at the crystal grass' tip?


at the flourescent end, it stops, the ant.
there is nothing ahead.

on the verge of that nothingness, it sways, surprised feelers probing the weightless air around.
then it turns and crawls down the old path,
all the way back,
into the cocoon of warm, moist grass at my feet.


When you have climbed all mountains you felt the need to climb,
When you are done with all that,
Come sit with me on this slate stone under the olive-leaved tree whose name I am still to learn.
On this day: shining, moist and slightly warm,
With the grass, a crystal green
And the smell of holiday in the air-
(very restful as if all is finished and done).
Lean back against the rough bark of the tree-trunk.


Here... now.......
Eyes can be closed.