Everything springs

I stand among living beings
older than I
and without understanding
receive their wisdom.
Beneath their thousands of fingers
the wrists of trees reach up
out of the ground,
up out of the mystery,
the great singing silence.
They are my hands, too.
Snowmelt moves in me.

springs from everything
in this whole umbilical world.

The brook
and the little birds
bear us
toward what we shall be.

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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