Speaking as mind, said the heart
I do not trust you
Speaking as heart, replied the mind
I do not love you
The wise one sits very still
In the morning
The dew glistens in his tangled hair
His stillness is not for me
He is still for the wild things
The old crow hops nearer to see
This strange visitor
The ants scurry about his feet
I begin again
Speaking as heart, I do not trust
Speaking as mind, I do not love
The sun rises
Or the earth falls
The tree under which he sits
Gathers her shadow around her
In deep folds piled in her lap
The wise one sits very still
His stillness is not for me
He is still for the breeze
That plays in her branches
And touches his lips
I begin again
I do not trust
I do not love
The wise one sits very still
Breath leads breath
Breath follows
Until the day renews itself
In the closeness of night
There is little moon
But the stars are bright
And the wise one
Listens
For the wild things
In the cover of the dark
I creep nearer
Even closer
I say to the tree
With your leave
I will wait here
Until morning
I keep vigil
Breath leading breath
Breath following
But in the morning
I am alone
Like a wild thing
My body is wet with
the dew of the world