slow it is motion
unsure of your why
yet why it is so certain
path around sky
it too see a cloud open
but that which is/is
tight around it
and around it being
green interwoven
laying down between two roots
of the tree
drawn down deeply
and being
counting the steps
back word around the base
counting slowly, slowly until
sleep over takes you
and down between husban still
and it does and it does
while you lay there asleep
the one between
inside it does seep snowy at first
into the wave
slow it is motion
that pushes aside all of the
leaves
wintering, slowly entering
growing and growing
wrapping around all the eggs
slow it is motion
you are holding
pushing, pulling growing in much so longer
pealing it open
it approximates that spot
none speak of
for ever past it it seems to glide
filled so full
until
and wave after wave
springs fountain of water it flows
still asleep
inside
and in rests it is full.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem