The Door 
 
A note waterfalls steadily
through us,
just below hearing.
 
Or this early light
streaming through dusty glass:
what enters, enters like that,
unstoppable gift.
 
And yet there is also the other,
the breath-space held between any call
and its answer --
 
In the querying
first scuff of footstep,
the  wood owls' repeating,
the two-counting heart:
 
A little sabbath,
minnow whose brightness silvers past time.
 
The rest-note,
unwritten,
hinged between worlds,
that precedes change and allows it.
 
~ Jane Hirshfield ~
 
 
 



Web version: www.panhala.net/Archive/The_Door.html

Web archive of Panhala postings:
www.panhala.net/Archive/Index.html

To subscribe to Panhala, send a blank email to Panhala-subscribe@yahoogroups.com
 
music link
(left button to play, right button to save)