a third way

edges

edges can be scary, and revealing,
for near a boundary between one reality and another,
there is a place where, with a slight change,
something basic reorients,

our cabin in the mountains is in the city:
city water, paved streets, cable TV,
a well-stocked kitchen and a comfortable bed,
and just out the back door
we have a national park for a backyard,
our ways there follow stream and trail,
I wander outside long enough to hear
and start to understand the languages
water sings with rock,
sun sings with leaf,
that the double helix spirals with bird and bear,

I like to hold within myself both sides of divide after divide,
I am both introvert and extrovert, actor and observer,
wherever reality seems to resolve into two
I see a third way that is of both and of neither,

the world of our civilization can flower beautifully,
however, I want to know the root, the trunk, and the branches,
as well as the fruit that comes from the flower.

by Henry Walker
December 18, ’10