“And I feel my body fully, vessel of desire,

my stomach a pond of want and warmth,

utterly human, divine and awake. And I can hear

each bird's separate song, the chirt and scree,

the sip, sip, sip, the dwindle and uplift yearning,

the soup's on, soup's on, let up, let it go

of each individual voice, and I know I am here,

in this widening light, as we all are, with them,

even the most damaged among us or lonely

or nearly dead, and that for each of us there is

some small sound like an unseen bird

ora red bike grinding along the gravel path

that could wake us, and take us home.”