Trough near a Spring


I want to take you down to the stream
which snakes below the ridges crowned
by pounding stones. Near the spring
a trough abides, Sept. 24, 1923

scribbled in cement. There the sun
sparks a jewel in my crown--
illuminating my subtle bodies.
I want you to see

the sun at our crowns, reflected
down into our hearts, that light
shining from one heart to another
as ten minutes pass or ten

thousand years, until
we remember
that we are as timeless as water,
blackberry brambles, quail grass.

Find a hole.
Blaze a new trail.