Soul Moves

Soul moves
with the mourning dove
circling the soil

of whatever work
   we are born to

The sun swells
red and muddy
flowing down
   the rutted riverside

A low breeze coils
along the hollow
where I search out
   my friend
     all alone

Night knowing
arrives damp
on honeysuckle

tongues tangled
   in folded petals



A silver minnow darts
suddenly through
the clear running

Crickets and frogs
chant this unexpected

This blessed redolence
we are still most deeply
drawn to inhabit

is the holy ground
only found by living

here just now
   and by letting go


    Kingsport, Tennessee