When sorrow lays us low br for a second we are saved br by humble windfalls br of the mindfulness or memory: br the taste of a fruit, the taste of water, br that face given back to us by a dream, br the first jasmine of November, br the endless yearning of the compass, br a book we thought was lost, br the throb of a hexameter, br the slight key that opens a house to us, br the smell of a library, or of sandalwood, br the former name of a street, br the colors of a map, br an unforeseen etymology, br the smoothness of a filed fingernail, br the date we were looking for, br the twelve dark bell-strokes, tolling as we count, br a sudden physical pain. br br Eight million Shinto deities br travel secretly throughout the earth. br Those modest gods touch us-- br touch us and move on.