Poetry

Corkscrew Swamp

Direction

Kabir

Love is

Only the Empty can be Full

Quiet

Rumi

Satchitanadaji

Tagore

Corkscrew Swamp - Poets' of Spirit Corner

Blue Heron walks on Lettuce Lake.
Lily pads support light birds long enough
For them to bill crawdads.
Appetizing Photograph:
Squirming crustacean crunched.
Boards, cleverly cut, fan out around corners
That bring new cypress vistas into view.
One tree grows around another, wet but
Not waterlogged.
Raccoon poop, which has Red dots throughout, brightens the walk
As rain clouds defy winter and roll
Through desolate Florida.
Where are all
These cars going?
Immokolee?
Must be
A growing town to support such traffic.
Back at the swamp a frog succumbs to a Banded owl. Anhingas stretch wet wings.
White flowers waver, waiting to be painted.

Now or Never

A turtle flies through the universe.
We ride on the back of the turtle.
The Undergods dwell in Canandaigua,
The Overgods look down from clouds.
Even if we're 300 moons away from
When this mattered, most of our lives
Are touched by one holy inspiration: nature.
Cosmic coincidence should not amaze here.
You are in the middle of the new awareness.
Black rocks spin and dive in deep water.
A four-year-old runs then swims.
Relaxed willow provides humid shelter.
You peek under the giant grass skirt
And see four tangled feet.
You don't peek further.
Gray locusts send twirling twigs to hair.
You swim out to a cooler spot of deep water.
The white snake, awake again,
Leaves Bare Hill, not reeking havoc
But cutting new creeks to hike along,
Full of crawdads and water spiders.
You retrace ancient steps.
You sneak
Through the old neighborhood, now trespassing.
Four tangled feet, a few skipping stones
And the spirit within you: Now awareness reigns.
Corn presents
A raw treat for passing minstrels.
Nothing Talked about or noticed matters.
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