Becoming a Pond



Becoming a Pond

Some days I am so serene
a clear pond
surrounded by quiet pines
like the one I stumbled upon
thirty years ago outside Bar Harbor

cool and clear
with silver minnows that dart and still inside me
disturbing nothing
still and clear I am
in need of nothing

maybe this is
the Holy Instant,
where every question meets
its miracle

if you will hold still
right now
you will feel, as I do,
the infinite verticality of
the present moment

and realize that
that there is no other moment
but the one in which
I write this,
the one in which you
read this,
stumble upon
the clear pond,
or find that you yourself
have become that pond.