Rain-diamonds, this winter morning, embellish the tangle of unpruned pear-tree twigs; each solitaire, placed, it appears, with considered judgement, bears the light beneath the rifted clouds - the invisible shared out in endless abundance.

Let me walk through the fields of paper touching with my wand dry stems and stunted butterflies.

In city, in suburb, in forest, no way to stretch out the arms - so if you would grow, go straight up or deep down.

Very few people really see things unless they've had someone in early life who made them look at things. And name them too. But the looking is primary, the focus.

But for us the road unfurls itself, we don't stop walking, we know there is far to go.

The world is not with us enough. O taste and see.

Every day, every day I hear enough to fill a year of nights with wondering.