What does the dragonfly know
that I’ve forgotten? Skimming 
effortlessly across the ripples,
it lives and dies without 
even fearing the trout.

Cast your cares, we sing, 
but the datura trumpets: 
What do you even know
about total abandonment 
to divine providence?	

Think of water,
which all summer, swells, 
seeks depth, runs down and deep, 
and recklessly: so useful and
humble, precious and pure.

Hold nothing back,
the water gurgles: Give all. 
Through snowmelt, waterfall, and torrent,
bathe the foot of hiker, 
soothe the thirst of fawn.

Yet whether still or freefall,
water runs deep, seeps down, 
like a nail, and then, 
come winter, rises: 
Ice now skates surface of pond and stream.
It stitches a dazzling bright robe,
and swaddles overwintering 
flora and fauna—

Behold this liquid mirror
whose interlocking molecules of ice
transform murky streambed to dazzling glass,
and transfigure river’s 
dank dark belly to pristine solid beam,
reflecting light of sky,
uniting water with light,
joining “I” with “you,”
fusing two elements
into One.

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