Microcosmic

To see a World in a Grain of Sand And a Heaven in a Wild Flower Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand And Eternity in an hour You scan the horizon, your view an expanse of hill, field and sky, then you focus in on a detail, maybe a bird or a tree. Does your perceptual world contract to a shrunken fragment?  No, it stays the same size or maybe even expands.  As your attention homes in, so there is a mental blossoming – what was coarse-grained becomes finescale.  Uniform  Mondrian blocks show their true nature as a filigree of delicate tracery. Like a baby in a pram, whose universe consists of its mother and perhaps some toys, it seems limited, but this is the canvas upon which everything plays out – all the sights, smells and sounds to feed the baby’s developing brain. And this is what I’ve found when I’ve concentrated on a ‘patch' - my mind is focused  - I've gone microcosmic! My first incarnation as a patch watcher was enforced.  A decade long stretch o

  walk in nature till you go away and nature walks you if you can't walk sit in nature till you go away and nature sits you if you can't sit be in nature till you go away and nature is you ------------------------------------------------------- at the thigh-high of grass at the thigh-high of grass and the willow herb of waist I'm found found by a deer-narrow path I'm leaving litter behind as I go a trail of me - the parts I don't need I shed some things with small sigh of breeze peeling off rind - off from the mind the thinking and the thoughts they're thrown away in handfuls cast as if I'm sowing doubt a rain-quick rinse washes off more some pith, some regrets and worries at the prickle of thistle and the catch of bramble-snare there delusions get torn off and at the caw of crow where there's cuckoo-spit-wet I'm lost and now I'm not walking because nature walks me