Tapping

Tapping
green grass matted hilltop
over aqua see-through Hawaiian waters
excited me most, not the ticklish little bugs that landed
incessantly upon our nakedness
we must have tasted well to them,
meat tendered and basted in tropical and bawdy body blending
Columnar granite rocks towering over aqua see-through
Emerald Bay waters where crushed granite sands wash down
mountain's blonded paths with billowy and white
thunderheads building and reflecting on still, glass-top lake
Clarified Light
In the tapping of a hand upon one's own heart
as in a Far Away Place and the Gods Must Be Crazy
dropping bottles with notions
Rarified in spirit
Moon's white light across peaked ocean waves
darkened by night edged by rising cliff and Timber Cove's Totem
captured in slow speed, still photos appears an oil on canvas
Chalice Raised
Same spirit flows waters illumined in moon's light
dropped into earth's blow hole wide and deep in Mendocino
where whales gather humans to watch annual processions south,
then north having given birth in waters warm teeming with life
Vision Pure
In the tapping of a hand upon one's own heart.

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