Dearest Freshness, a retreat poem

From a Western Zen Retreat, November 2018

There lives the dearest freshness deep down things.
Gerard Manley Hopkins

Time rears up, paisley-patterned. No need
for underlay. Or even floor. Wells
out of its own guts. Weaves itself
out of itself second by second by second.
Now. And now. And now. Has me knotted in
under and over and through, in crimson green
black yellow blue. Has me turning unfurling
into new nows. Repetition no rest.
The chairs pile grain on grain to build themselves
again. My bones join cell to cell in fresh
rigidity. Meanwhile the busy world
with needle of light stitches its own next instant.
And a lily petal falls, the first again.
And now. Each moment of dying is new. And now.