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- Up-end the stick and what happens next
- Is a music that you never would have known
- To listen for. In a cactus stalk
- Downpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwash
- Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
- Being played by water, you shake it again lightly
- And diminuendo runs through all its scales
- Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes
- A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,
- Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;
- The glitter-drizzle, almost-breaths of air.
- Up-end the stick again. What happens next
- Is undiminished for having happened once,
- Twice, ten, and thousand times before.
- Who cares if all the music that transpires
- Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?
- You are like a rich man entering heaven
- Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.
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