Bright sun’s dappling green-dance in the trees

The breeze is humming it’s song to the air

The singing is weaving it’s song with my breath

The Unseen is seen as waves in the grass


Wondering the words to the murmuring song,

Memory’s flimsy net is cast on the waves

Retrieving naught but nebulous stands,

An ancient strum of music I should know


Shining light-glowing meadow and field

Could I gather in a bottle all this light?

Behind the  bright blue-glazed dome of the day,

Would every star in the sky fit in my eye?