Haiku that Move

a little rain
on a little slope
races seaward

 

the world blurs,
my brain strains to track
its motion

 

in stillness
one loses the world’s
steady spin

 

i throw myself
to silly dance — joyous
that i can

 

the perched raven
still swivels its eye
in stone mode

First Eclogue: Flow, Interupted

Thru-hiking a sheep-cropped pasture,
I spied a shepherd in repose,
in the shadow of a boulder.
I asked, “Do you know which way it flows?”

 

“It flows? What flows? the creek below?”

 

“I know the creek must flow downhill.
I mean how I flow through the world,
or it through me — by force or will?”

 

“I know when I lie here it slows,
between the bleats and blowing winds,
and I wonder through shaded eyes
whether the world is still in spin?”

I nodded, wandering on, wondering whether the world would stop for the likes of me.