I should be changing my oil, but I am
Barley and me
curly white dog pressed into my hip
windows wide open –
a cool cross breeze is nudging past screens and wood blinds that watch the daylilies and Jacob’s beard
it is quiet, but for the sound of falling rain.
The universe is humming, you know. Energy spinning in circles, throwing itself in and through worlds upon worlds
sometimes on the farm I swear I heard it
that low rumble
at the top of the hill under a billion stars
just me and the fields. and the silence
when all was still, it began like a barely audible hum, warm, low,
after all the crickets and mice were silent, and the frogs had given up for a time,
there it was
I thought it was just my body alive
and maybe so…
but now I am wondering if it was something much older
you know ~
the creation of it all
the bang of beginning, still whirling and echoing
Not possible, you say?
But I have often heard the impossible.