Lausanne
2026
It warms my bones
say the stones
I take it into me and grow
Say the trees
Leaves above
Roots below
A vast vague white
Draws me out of night
Says the moth in his flight
Some things I smell
Some things I hear
And I see things move
Say the dear
A high tower
on a white plain.
If you climb up
One floor
You'll see a thousand miles more.
Gary Snyder, Turtle Island, The Uses of Light
A new Direction Book, 1974
