Off

Off the grid
of political mind,
beyond the energy field
of either-or, left-right,
I dissolve polarity
in my belly button,
take one slow step
barefoot on moist moss
among the ferns
under old-growth hemlocks,
listening to a heron
screech in the bog,
whooshing enormous wings
into the golden
August evening mist.
He's been standing all
afternoon on one leg
at the center of his mirror,
waiting for a fish.

Photo by my old friend and wilderness guide, Scott Waeschle