Field Work

You who hold doing so dear,

if I hand you a cup empty of tea,

would you grow full

in the drinking?

Or if I tap you lightly,

would you toll true sound

the air’s longing says

was there all along?

Would you dissolve then

so what you are

and how you are

nest in each other as

a fan and its breeze,

your heart and its call?

Afterward, would you rest,

awash in the field,

sails full open,

destination in mind,

and let random winds

take you where they will?