i am:

…the tiny yellowgreen marble of tomato curling alive in the plant several plots to the foreground ahead {1}

…the white ceramic vessel turned on its side in the dirt nearby, hosting shadows inside it, and some pale plantlife {2}

…the watchful wooden owl vane aloft also nearby, twisting subtly in the light breeze that reminds me of the temperature of the water in The Blue Room {3}

…the wandering photographer, crew-cut, long lens camera cradled gently, tattoo of a black butterfly on the nape of his neck {4}

…the tiny white butterflies themselves, flitting in Brownian motion between blossoms full and subtle {5}



you are:

…that perfectly equanimous little buddha itself, eyelids closed to the world but open to tokens {5}

…the sound of the birds aloft in the Monterey pine, also nearby, small brown-feathered entities {4}

…the Asian aunty with pruning shears tending to her plot, the flowering plants of which are taller than her {3}

…the pendulous branches of this spreading avocado under which i sit to mark this moment and render these glyphs {2}

…the music which flows through these earphones and through the motes of air which i will collect to bring with me elsewhere soon {1}