I
In the early hours we took to the road
fully-prepared maps compass all-weather gear
& civilized guitars.
By midday worn down
we had to leave half of it behind.
late afternoon the maps had
lost their use
destinations less pressing
songs unaccompanied
the journey its own reward.
nightfall there was only the single tent
to shelter those of us
waiting up for the dawn.
Others staying out
keeping company
with the stars.
II
High vast tilleul trees
hollow canopy domes of summer
thundering bee-droves at fierce blossom suck
each tree a jet-plane
readying for lift-off.
walking underneath
in green translucid light
the mind stops –
unable to move in mid-air
take a single thought
further
slipt inside the bloom of the World
forever.
III
Some wanted to say
the eclipse could be explained
just as freedom
could be learned.
others refused to hear
hands cuppt over ears and eyes
private screenings projected on
their own cavewalls.
Darkness descending the obscured sun
in these days of hidden Buddhas
I sit outside my hut
wait for the clamour to die down
watch for the double
dissolution.
Georges St Labastide, France, June 2010
whispered lineage 
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