Lorna Graves, B.1947. D.2006. Poem by HOWLIN' DERVISH

I am lying face down in the grass with my arms out-stretched
and my palms and face against the cool earth.
I can feel perfection seeping upwards out of the earth
and into my body;
into my limbs
and chest
and abdomen,
into my cheeks and forehead.

The beauty of the earth is absorbed into me like wine into blood.
To stand and look is not enough;
the sense then is all mind.
The body must be pressed to the earth
so that the mind and body are one.