Late September

The crickets  
click and echo  
their snappy percussion  
ricochets  
staccatos  
my whole being upright 

I’ve never been to this bay before, never noticed it.  
Today I was led here by an unseen force.  

A steep descent  
loamy dust 
textured by fir needle  
and the first of the fallen leaves. 

A winding welcome party of  
madrone, arbutus.  
Their smoothness extends  
like the arm of a loved one,  
a knowing contact  
our limbs enlivened  
our lungs in sacred conversation  

Down the rocky outcrop just so:  
One part attention,  
One part trust. 

‘I trust my body’  
I whisper to no one  

And I do  

The heat  
of late afternoon sun  
inhales the beads  
of moisture from my lake kissed skin,  
I touch into the divine  
I feel the great mystery  
unfolding  
where I sit in silence  
in love with this life