Not Finally Separate
The plants and grasses don’t seem to care
if I gaze upon them or pass indifferently by,
too hurried to pause long enough to see
the slender shadows they cast in their
swaying forms; neither do the beetles
who scratch about in the dirt and scuttle
across the worn rocks, bathing their hard-
shelled selves in the warm mid-day sun.
With them we wander as best we can
beneath shadows of drifting clouds, and
it could be though while their innocence
is deeper than ours it’s not finally separate.
Perhaps they’re gathered by dreams as
singular as those that shape us, too,
shifting like the winds at play with
the shining flock of clouds above.
Mark S. Burrows is a theologian, poet, and translator. A longtime resident of New England, he currently teaches religion and literature at the Protestant University of Applied Sciences in Bochum (Germany). His recent publications include Meister Eckhart’s Book of the Heart. Meditations for the Restless Soul, with Jon M. Sweeney (2017); a new book of his poems, The Chance of Home, will be published in March, 2018. http://www.msburrows.com
