Lotus Seed Poem: 17

Once I dreamt of summer as the spirit of a wild animal, a fox or
deer moving across a ridge. O! The sensation of a summer as a
being, a creature like a storm awakening everything, arousing
night. And how she moved in such a way that I sensed her
everywhere as she vanished back into the seed of each moment.
If I put my hand on the evening grass or looked at the footprint
of a constellation, it was as if she had just been there visiting,
carrying water to a field of crickets whistling to the moon. And I
heard the sound of her garment moving against the maple leaves
as she strolled across the lawn of the synagogue.