Small birds converge on the fountain’s edge
as bees do, as does my gaze.

In the morning I filled the fountain
for my own pleasure – its gurgling
sound, reflection of sunlight in shimmer
of water over pouring.
The bees and the birds too
find their own pleasure there  –
I in them, we together
drinking of light, refreshment
cascading, dripping life.

I did not change the world
today, make my presence known;
did not seek the fullness of good,
find its summit or its source.

I filled the fountain to its brim
stepped back, sat down and,
since it was what I could do, watched
the everlasting procession-
birds and bees, creation ceaseless
pouring as water over the rim.

Portland, Oregon – July 26, 2016