Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Crossings by Ravi Shankar

Between forest and field, a threshold

like stepping from a cathedral into the street—

the quality of air alters, an eclipse lifts,

boundlessness opens, earth itself retextured

into weeds where woods once were.

Even planes of motion shift from vertical

navigation to horizontal quiescence:

there’s a standing invitation to lie back

as sky’s unpredictable theater proceeds.

Suspended in this ephemeral moment

after leaving a forest, before entering

a field, the nature of reality is revealed.


jenclair said...

Lovely poem! I love the phrases "the quality of air alters" and "sky's unpredictable theater." Thanks for sharing this one, Lisa.

Lisa said...

jenclair, glad you enjoyed it. I love the images of the poem -- the forest as a cathedral is my favorite.