Loving It. (For Alan Watts)
by Roy K Austin
A moments youth, a wrinkled face
as on my hand the line I trace,
and in between, so close, yet far
to seem that ' I ' was never here,
and rapid too - that shooting star
resolving in the atmosphere ;
vibrations give the world to me
though other worlds I cannot see,
and energy - the causal spirit
is playing games and loving it ,
a hooting owl, a coughing rook,
an old man gazing for a while -
just three beneath a lunar hook
complicit in a cosmic smile.
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