Summer Blues
still open my eyes slowly
forest monastery
shadows lift high lighted wings
Forest Hermitage (natural psalter)*

though long grown a haiku blisters up,
it's a sudden thing,
like a fresh surprising rain drop in clear air against forehead
looking up at a perfect hit;
white like blue sky coming down from green heaven, like pieces of paper glide
gently crossing space folded

no rock unturned, no tree left stands alone.

wings skidding
landing in the dark, side by side
stirring yellow sunburst dust
fall felt in the red like blood on rosary beads.

we are monastery
we are forest
we are prayer
we are wings brightly
filling darkness with songs of light.

so as not to be forgetful of how the sacred heart bleeds, and bleeds, and bleeds,
the one for the many,
the many for the one,
we make our beds without a sound and then we stay awake watchful, mindful,
for
we are monastery
we are forest
we are prayer.

-chaz hill 2012. 30 july *You make me sing like a natural psalter.