sitting on sounds

swallowing the summer sky

that swallows us right back,

we surrendor between

lush folds of crying grass,

the flicker of crickets chatter

and branches of leaves striking breeze -

a trickling waterfall of awe,

floating and soaking

drop

by drop

by drop

right through us.



here we surf on crumbling instances,

wading deeper on through

the soft quicksands of contemplation,

tumbling down into hot sweeping dawns.