You will remember...

You will remember that leaping stream
where sweet aromas rose and trembled,
and sometimes a bird, wearing water
and slowness, its winter feathers.


You will remember those gifts from the earth:
indelible scents, gold clay,
weeds in the thicket and crazy roots,
magical thorns like swords.


You'll remember the bouquet you picked,
shadows and silent water,
bouquet like a foam-covered stone.


That time was like never, and like always.
So we go there, where nothing is waiting;
we find everything waiting there.