I
I walk straight to them,
posts of cedar at the edge
of my east meadow.
II
Every day I talk
to them with much reverence.
They have become friends.
III
They are very old,
one hundred and sixty years
holding up sheep fence.
IV
I bring to them my
consciousness and my life force,
sharing Mystery.
V
Immersed in Presence,
I whisper: “Please, lend me your
strength and endurance.”
VI
My eyes sweep southward,
adoring the round mountain,
an old volcano.
VII
The stones I place on
the posts came from her round, too,
bubbled by magma.
VIII
The Ultimate is
forever our Companion,
with us all our days
IX
and nights, moon and stars
embracing posts, stones, me and
our humble friendship.
X
Words bring them back to
Life, as if they are dreaming
while loving the land.
XI
Hugging one post is
the base of a deer antler,
another old friend
XII
who holds within it-
Self the spirit of its deer,
cut off like the post
XIII
but returned to Life
by the spirit of friendship
born out of the Land.
