Born in light
tasting what life is
rolling and running
full laughing most of all
and the wheel turns the water

around the earth around it
winds with clouds and
the fire of the sun
the wheel of beauty:
the seasons

bamboo shoots and blossoms
all dying
the fluttering flight of the skylark
the wonders of the forest
beavers reconstructing the brook

a May-bug on a journey
over my leg and flying
in my hand which I close
and open again
the smells

of vegetables being cooked
moss and steaming dew
mushrooms in autumn
the village in the winter months
when the stoves burn

the wheel of my life
my kids, my work
the colours of my clothes and
from my hands the healing voice
of seven long strings