L’Amuse Bouche (In the Sugarbush: A Prologue)
The fruits borne of the tree of analysis are flavorless,
but valuable— and sometimes beautiful,
like Renoir’s “Basket of Fruit”.
But it is within the womb of synthesis
that luscious beauty is born—
As the heart softly dawns on the horizon
of experience and sees itself anew
in the clear, shimmering starlight.
Full of the magic of ancient alchemy is the sweet forest—
Cosmic magic—
Moon magic—
Wolf magic—
The magic of the call and response between
ourselves and the elixir of life—
The frozen magic of stillness and falling snow—
Like champagne glitter
in
the
half-
light
of the
new
moon.
