Now my body flat, 
the ground breathes,
I’ll be the grass.

Populous and mixed is mind. 
Earth take thought,
my mouth be moss.

Field go walking, 
I a disk 
will look down with seeming eye,

I will be time 
and study to be evening. 
You world, be clock.

I will stand, 
a tree here, 
never to know another spot.

Wind be motion, 
birds be passion, 
water invite me to your bed.


 =Dave Hoak