feeling streams and dreams

this hour is passing slowly, the

firs and pines lining the stream

have a better vibrance in the

water’s reflection than they do

in the will of the winds - I come

without flesh this time, as easy 

as if I had only thought myself 

were here - but I am here - I touch

my hand to the stream and a ripple

circles away, I graze the cattails 

as I stroll beside them and they

sway properly in return - yes, I am

here - the rainbow trout knows my

name, the mayfly as well, despite

its brevity - the blurred buzzing,

fat and thick, of the honeybee’s

jollity is familiar to me - yes my

friend, I am here - I come like

mist for the empty spaces, I fill the

culms and the creaking hollows -

through every spider’s web I flow

without vibration, without alarm,

and I rise in the foam where the

water crashes and the currents

swirl - I am here, I am here

(Image from cdnb.artstation.com)