The only reason I'm so moved seeing clouds and hills mingle
Is because the intimacy of the world otherwise stays hidden.
Even though I know it's there
(In animals calling,
And in the cave overflowing.
And in the food I've built on,
And in the song of the bat,
And in rotting bodies unfolding)
I am touched each time I can see hand-holding.
Mist married to branches married to me with my eyes
Stopping my work for a moment to say
"What a generous place is unveiling here!"
And
"Thank you. We have enough."