Athens, Georgia
June 18, 2014
To be present at creation
and wander deep time
weightless as the moment
itself,
for eternity is an
inbreath
of early June evening,
when life hums a low note
and late sun filters
softness
through darkening shade;
or the pool of morning,
when buzz-trill and chirp-call
weave the tree tops, waking
whole days; or in the
still-breath,
when slant yellow renders
shades of green to veins
of gold
and the nervous house wren
pauses on a porch rail
regarding options.
He fans a tiny wing,
darts eyes, twitches
twice, flies. Action
breaks the idle spell, restores
the world to green and
brown.
I do not trust a golden
throne
guarded by pearl encrusted
gates. Just give me Now
in my outbreath and God
in the garden, trailing
