“I Want To Stand Among The Wild Fennel”

I want to stand among the wild fennel,
slender and tall,
bushy head braided by mist.

I want to kneel
in the valley,
below the priestly hills,
smell the dew-soaked grasses,
await the first quiver
of morning light.

I want to soar where
every bird’s song is a breath,
every thought a blossom,
where the last stars of night
map a way to heaven.