The leaves reach out over the path,
Longing to brush across,
To know, skin;
To leave their mark on it -
A reminder they were there
That would last for hours, even days.
Sun shines,
Neither hiding nor relentless,
Effortless in its being.
Meaning can be found
Without looking;
Or there is always
Nothing to understand.
Does the butterfly search
For something in particular,
Or flit from place to place
For the sheer joy of it?
Does the spider sit,
Perpetually waiting an arrival in its web,
Or does it dream,
Pondering the world and its own
Existence?
The smell of rain,
A magnificent tree,
This loving gaze:
You can, still,
Breathe in simplicity.
