World is suddener than we fancy it.
World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. -- Louis Macneice
At the beginning of August, when the leaves held the deepest hues of green, the leaves satiate with chlorophyll, engorged with chlorophyll, with all those hours of light, you walked to the creek. And there at the creek, you sat with your shoes off as water poured from one hollowed drum to another, the whole creek percussive and flowing, the flowing never ending, never ending and you beside this eternal flow, lying back and listening. How many years had passed since you'd known such solitude, such aloneness? All the while creek waters rose and kept rising, fell and kept falling, through seasons, all the while flowing and carving the shape of sandstone.
You lie back on the sandstone and the creek flows, a tempered drum, a low flow that comes at deepest summer. You lie back, the sun not yet above the alders but behind the toppest leaves, the leaves shuddering alive and awake to the warm wind and the warm wind spinning them. The sun flashes between leaves, alive itself and the whole world alive to the sun. And then, in the space between trees and sun, a galaxy of fireweed floats. This constellation, this universe of seed, blows and shifts on the current of winds, above all your knowing. They are specks, like we are all specks, knowing nothing but flight and height and movement beneath the sun. It is all there at once for you, this world incorrigibly plural and various: the galaxy and wind, the percussive creek and all the green deepening. Everything opens in this moment of generosity, everything so wide and eternal you can only rest in it and weep. Your heart is in this world, on the edge of a creek at summer's middle mark. And all this moment is a moment in time that passes away with all of time. But it seems to you a generous thing, this aliveness of the creek and the leaves in the wind. A generous thing to breathe this galaxy in as your heart beats and beats, to breathe it out as the percussive creek flows eternally down. And here, now, your heart's edges soften and the whole world, as it is, pours in.