If I look
or if I don't look
clouds are always passing over
the place I live.
The place I live
passing under
my feet while my mind wanders
in a sea of fog.
On a ridge
seeing through a hole in the fog
(A thought out of nowhere comes passing through)
I say to myself
(I say to myself, like a voice on the wind)
Behold
but I see nothing.
Rocks and water and wood
not speaking to me.
(Left alone to wander above)
Slow and uneasy and alive.
(wanderer above the sea of fog)
I mean the place lives
and clouds pass over
(sitting on a ridge and watching clouds pass over)
the landscape
a blanket on stone
(where an ocean of glaciers rolled)
Land waves are rolling.
(Through a fog, this is a brief life.)
(Short and cold, momentarily.)
(A life as brief as the morning fog)
Momentarily,
I come out from under.