kan, which means “to sing” is
          the PIE root of the word charm
This morning I wake from the dream
in which I finally understand
how the silence of the One depends
on the clamor of the Many.

Yesterday, I surprised two humming birds
who squabbled round the clotted rubies
of the Monarda blossoms.  My lover says
humming birds don’t flock. 

They live as solitaries.  A rare group
of two or more are named Charm.
Right now I vow to put my faith
in the reality and power of What-Is. 

May the One who plants me within the silent
center of the clamorous Many show me
Emptiness is always here.  We name
Her God.  We call Him Absence. 

The humming birds sip sweet,
thrusting long tongues into the narrow
flutes of the bee balm flowers.
May we spend these days

of fear, mistrust and death,
of masks and distance, sipping
sweetness every chance we get.
                             7/28-29/2020