Breathing Landscape

Lying in the sun,

and lying here so still,

an egg might slowly hatch beneath this still hand.

The people pass -

abruptly they nod, they smile

trailed in the air, silence follows their faces.

I know, lying,

how the hills are fixed

and the day-moon runs at the heads of the fixed hills.

Nothing crossed the field

all day but a bird

skirting the tall grass in briefest transit.

Their stern ideas

are a long work to each

and even armored we hardly touch each other.

The wind leans,

the air placed formally

about these faces and thoughts in formal dance.

Silence hangs in the air.

Nothing speaks but the sound

of certain rivers continuing underground.