The Waiting Of What Comes Next.... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the hurry into
the room and the sudden
closing of the door
and windows
simultaneously
cannot as yet be
explained
the wind knows what
ripe time is
every golden grain
counts and
mounts upon a stalk
telling a story
to the humus layer
of this soil
the master is seated
facing a wall
eyes closed
it sees well what comes
next
comfortable now
every bit of an atom
has a carried
explanation
every vibration is
love
the wind goes to
another
place leaving silence
satisfied