"Some huge work goes on
growing or not growing.
How could one
person's words matter?
Where you walk, heads
pop from the ground.
What is one seed-head
compared to you?
On my death-day
I'll know the answer.
I have cleared this house,
so your furniture,
when it comes,
can fill every room.
I slide like an empty boat
pulled over the water."


ocean meadow
photo © the archive of light