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Going for a Walk on a Sunny Day

Who casts

the light

upon these trees

thru which they stand and shine?

The air, I feel

but cannot see

the blue, above

that we agree

is called the sky,

The bi-plane, doing

it's best impression of a bald eagle,

The breeze, swaying

thru the lofty tops

at once, shrugging

off its' leaves in the same direction

they're meant to fall.

My feet, moving

across the earth,

the plastic rubber soles

sliding on cement pavement,

And I,

breathing

And I,

becoming

What I

am beholding,

Breath as a tool

to manifest all of what sources say

was made before me,

my destiny.


Who's name do we call by this wonderment?

Nature, acting out the oldest act

Look around you--what is the nature

of the nature

that surrounds you?

What do you notice?

And what do you call it?

A name,

by God?

Or by some other name?


The light thus cast upon the branch

shows the full breadth

of the wood, its' fibre

The shadow of the branch too

is shown in full.

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