Amidst the depth of cypress trees
the one soul who was grounded
in Mother Earth was Mary’s.

The crows with yellow beaks
and glistening black bodies
announced their noisy conflicts.

She, who could resolve them,
walked slowly in the woods
pensive, prayerful.

Mary graced the sea waves.
She was thrilled by their ripples.

A husband and a wife are one.
Mary has been whole in her love.

I didn’t know which I might choose—
the compassion of her heart,

or the profundity of her reception—
Mary’s understanding smile,

Or the relish in her eyes.
Tangerine flowers tumbled

Enveloping her garden
with endless rapture.
The soul of Mary crossed
there— to and fro. Her path

Intertwined with joy and sorrow.
Oh, you who follow Mary, why
do you rush so constantly?

Stop a moment and you too will see
Mary’s devotion to those in need, pulsing
Through your own heart.

I sense the music in her ears, as she
swayed with soft coastal rhythms,
Still I am aware that Mary

Is involved in what I know.
When Mary’s vision soars,
trailing her meditative tears,

She marks the boundaries
of what is current and fresh,
and at the sight of Mary riding

Her kayak, even the grandsons
of Japan, lift their eyes in awe.
Mary rode over many waters in

In her sleek reliable craft. The colors
of the water changed from robins’
egg blue to green tumbled glass

To the startling orange of the waves
as the sun slipped down the horizon.
The moods of meditation were silently

Shifting, Mary must be musing.
It was late evening all day long.
The coast was wet with mist.

It was going to shower love.
Mary rocked in the treetops
Lulling the crows to sleep.