Sun low in the west
bright flame in clear sky
fills green treetops and sets aglow
all within squint pinched apertures.
Warm skin, cheeks reflect
like the sandy face of the Moon;
a lesser satellite to be sure,
I spin with a wide world.
Held inside, a universe
churns to the energy of a life:
as great or little as a thing can be.
Today within a moment lost, I watch me
as if a bubble on the sea-- its lightest hold
on water, air, and time--
and wonder if it
knows
the perils and beauty of its existence.
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