The deer trail is more still than quiet
Scents becoming louder than vision
Eyes close in deep temple breath
There is no more beautiful rain
than forest mist
Sprigs of fog that are at once
barely seen and barely felt
Bundled moss like hyssop soaked
in holy, flicked with urgent intent
soft wet sprays make clothes
my nakedness
A baptism that fills my lungs
Eyes close in deep temple breath
There is no more beautiful rain
than forest mist
Sprigs of fog that are at once
barely seen and barely felt
Bundled moss like hyssop soaked
in holy, flicked with urgent intent
soft wet sprays make clothes
my nakedness
A baptism that fills my lungs
with the spirit I belong
***
~ Girard Tournesol
http://www.thewatershedjournal.org/
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