Friday Poem

The Condition of Water

Turning back toward home
on my after-breakfast walk

I face the steep hill of eucalyptus

that stands over our neighborhood
and am struck by the beauty

of what can hardly be seen

for today after heavy rain
the highest levels are obscured

like the truth of the Tao Te Ching

by the low-lying duvet of cloud
the farthest trees barely visible

looking remote as if ranged

on some twelfth-century Chinese scroll
Tell me! What is it in our

bicameral brain that makes

obfuscation of mere fact
so much more beautiful?

byPeter Dale Scott
from Rattle #62, Winter 2018