Come I slept at the foot of the mountain for 29 years. Now, I am called to climb and nest on each branch, to make a staff and round this pulse calling me - the mountain’s task is mine - come - Let mystic call me now - answer - answer - Mystic call me now explore and connect what before seemed separate or unimportant, not relevant - all those little packages we post units discrete in destination and intent - open them all now and see with the eagle’s eye connect the light of the stars with one string fly them like kites from one huge heart - fly and connect the streams in a fist made clear in knowing the body as whole. Center Speech Droplets caught like dew held in hands for the sun to sip, as easily as that love runs from me to you, so potent our chat, when lives are fueled with the exchange of words from lips, softly charged in tint and hue. I beckoned the mountain to speak this morning and all I heard was Ah and Ummm! Hmmm! Rain fell in the night, softly, so, too, the mountain steps are slow to see. Can I pause enough to hear? The mountain is teacher, guide. I open my eyes and settle into her slopes for a long, leisurely, and acorn filled ride.