The Soul Has Many Motions, Body One.

The Light Comes Brighter From The East; The Cawof Restive Crows Is Sharper On The Ear.

The Fields Stretch Out In Long Unbroken Rows. We Walk Aware Of What Is Far And Close. Here Distance Is Familiar As A Friend. The Feud We Kept With Space Comes To An End.

What Is Desire?-- The Impulse To Make Someone Else Complete? That Woman Would Set Sodden Straw On Fire.

I Long For The Imperishable Quiet At The Heart Of Form.

Those Who Are Willing To Be Vulnerable Move Among Mysteries.