In the wild what will come will come

Here is a flower
spinning around in a beautiful pond

Its petals tell nothing except they are petals

They do not point out the path
or choose you a lover

The water clear and cold
might well be paint spread solid
whose mood suggests the liveliness of frogs
the snap of an early March breeze

Step into this barefoot

Feel it existing despite you

There before you is a moment of the world
and then, like a dragonfly, it’s gone
and stays going on without you
its air and its light
the colored shape of its movements

All of it going on forever

Your wet footprints
mark the privacy ending

And the world goes on even further