Step barefooted on the ground and make it giddy, pregnant with joking and buds. A Spring uproar rises into the stars. The moon begins to wonder what’s going on. Those of you in the nightsky above the moon, try walking damp ground. Ecstatic singers in sacred taverns, get up at dawn. Try not sleeping. A secret turning in us makes the universe turn. Head unaware of feet, and feet head. Neither cares. They keep turning. This moment this love comes to rest in me, many beings in one being. In one wheat-grain a thousand sheaf stacks. Inside the needle’s eye, a turning night of stars.