This humming stillness

Even on a perfectly still morning,
nothing moving,
trees frozen into the ground,
sky frozen to itself,
still, (how is this?)
here you are,
burgeoning into being,
the roaring sun
silent between the trees,
(everyone I meet, your blossoming!)
what is only just becoming
humming in becoming,
(the more still I am
the more vibrant it is)
everything thrumming with you
and the silence of your delight,
your anticipation
of what even you,
even now,
are just discovering,
—oh look!—
just becoming.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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