in the heart of noon
the sun on a swallow
flying over the marketplace—
quick shimmer carried on
a dark leaf of passing
the way clear blue
and yellow apothecary bottles
on a high shelf at last
confess they carry more
than their presumed
emptiness— even the bird
knows about the luminous
green stone lying
at the bottom of long-
necked despair
how gradually it rises
so the mouth could pluck it
out of its collected waters
In response to Via Negativa: High and low.