Alone for several hours,
on a winter's morning.
The wish has always been
to sit before the fire
reading excerpts from
Bergson, Unamuno, Machado,
Teilhard de Chardin, Heidegger, and Fromm.
It is to sense one's self bathing
in the warmth of a honeycomb,
everything sticking to everything,
me to me,
all me ...
From Iris and Other Things: A Collection, Don Davison
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