Look, I am bursting with it: seed-knowledge and something to say! Before I was, I resided in the winter crust, here where sugar crystallizes in the green apple; yes, I was the prescience of myself before ever being it...
My mother is a garden, is a universe unto herself in the eternal backyard of Baker Street. In polka-dot halter and flannel shorts, she bends down to tend the runner beans, she bends down to tend to me. A silhouette as large as any sun, and I, small and green as a caterpillar among the rows of strawberries...
Let the waters fill you to overflowing, living springs that surprise you every time with joy and a deep compassion toward yourself. Let this peace rest on your head like a patriarch’s hand in blessing as I anoint you daughter, I anoint you son. Let these springs welling up to eternal fill every dryness in your person...
