Amsterdam Park

Anonymous One,
The mature bloom of yellow afternoon
Waved at us, and we entered Amsterdam park.
September spoke softly to beach and sand dune,
Passersby, deer, trees, red-berry bushes, till the Moon-Dark
Of ourselves and aloneness silenced words,
Scattering them as though they were a flock of birds.
My friend and I – we walked and walked and some profound,
Vast and alien meditation suffused each trail and mound.
I could no longer say the rabbit stirred the grass
Or deer leapt; any movement that would pass
Was rather some anonymous force bending space
In infinite ways; the green-glowing beetle was Your Face.
We stopped by somewhere and only felt there was no mistake,
That we had never been elsewhere or ever could be.
I say now that we had come to some water
With austere presences, each towering tree,
But it was Aliveness before the world began:
The horizon and shoreline were arcs, and in between
Resounded ruffled echoes, cries from the Nothing-seen.

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