I’m in the wood now,
by the moon mirror,
the still, black pond.
No leaves sway
on sentinel trees
this warm, windless night.
Jasmine scents,
a sleeping swan
the same colour as the moon,
her head tucked
under feathers.
I am the only one moving.
I shift upon a flat rock,
my fingers brush a fern.
I come here to be
nobody,
a swan, the moon, a feather.
I would stay forever.
Soon I will hear the cries
of the other world,
the changing world,
and I will go back to
soothe, inspire, mother.
Until then, I rest
out of time.