I transcend
even myself
by lowering light,
as evening drops
into
the deepening hues
of night.
The constellation’s
Sirius star
rises doggedly,
and punctuates
the dappled
evenscape
to drape
my canopy.
I meditate
upon
the sky,
and wonder
Why?
Inhaling deeply
of the wispy
ether rising
from the fire
within
the leaves
of grass;
yellowed,
mellowed,
tightly rolled
and stuffed
in paper thin.
I am the grass.
I burn within.