~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Yesterday there were willow trees on a bank
And a muddy ditch beneath them,
Behind them a grey sheet of cloud
And a shower of fallen blossom at their feet.
But today the sun shines delicately,
The ditch has become a stream
And the stream a mirror of light
Where the curved trunks of the willows
Are clear and dark against the blue and the green and the gold.
What is this new dimension that appears?
With a ditch full of water and a streak of light
The sky that is above is not so far away
As the sky that is below and the clouds upon it,
And the trees that reach up do not raise their arms so far
As they reach down to touch the end of our seeing
Into the Heart of the World.