Just for a moment shut those thoughts of yours up tight.
Try if you can not to think about tomorrow.
Don’t go on looking at yesterday’s forest
edge, you seasoned blackberry picker as of old
but now. Make no difference just for once between
a who and how come and the chance of something else.
Put out the lamp in your head, hear what exists,
breathes and rustles, croaks in the frogs.
Live with your body the coolness of nightwind.
Yawn a hole in your heart and taste it
as red as juice from blackberries. Slowly become –
sung by birds – the gathering light.
For the original poem go to here