I stop.
Midday peace among the trees.

And then, not a sound:
a transparent flame
spreads through the air.
Violent and luminous, like the burning
day.
Like sex.
Like the summer sun.

Above the lone street and the gardens:
the eternal sky.

And that light we hear
dripping from nowhere. A stubborn trill
that transcends forms:
the limits of the tree and the earth,
the borders of the body and those of the world,
the weight of things.
Fleeting mystery, at the peak of the day:
the thrilling mystery
of that trill in the light.