We often forget that we are nature. Nature
     is not something separate from us. So when we
     say that we have lost our connection to nature,
     we've lost our connection to ourselves.
— Andy Goldsworthy

The best thing is just lying there
in the cold grass, arms and legs outstretched,
looking up at the slowly seething clouds,

and the flakes coming down making the air
a charged white static. A wee clump or two
snagged on an eyelash—white blot, then gone.

Each single dink on my face only lasts
for a second before dissolving into nothing again.
And then my mind goes wondering about

the mystery of water molecules that are really clouds
floating in the invisible air that sustains every creature
on this planet. The wind whips up again,

and I notice how my breath puffs a thin fog
from my lips, but a hush is coming on
stronger now, and I'm trying not to move,

but my breathing in this silence sounds
monumental, and this body that I borrow
from carbon and all the other surprising

configurations of it in this field alone
are absolutely staggering. How the molecules
order themselves perfectly for me

once I stand up, unpack the camera,
and wait for my tracks to cover over
slightly. Just one click and it stays.



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