I am born again
this September morning as
each thorn on the rosebush
breaks pink with the sun
the hummingbird buzzes by,
echoes and springs in
the mist of chamomile flower—
a yellow-bodied bloom and
liquid-sugar disco running over
conscious body,
conscious mind
a chord is struck and
pecks the roof twice—
*tap…
tap…*
and I see god for what she is—
suddenly and always present as
two birds dance their wings
over a cradle of planted flowers
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 5:49 PM UTC
I am born again
this September morning as
each thorn on the rosebush
breaks pink with the sun
the hummingbird buzzes by,
echoes and springs in
the mist of chamomile flower—
a yellow-bodied bloom and
liquid-sugar disco running over
conscious body,
conscious mind
a chord is struck and
pecks the roof twice—
*tap…
tap…*
and I see god for what she is—
suddenly and always present as
two birds dance their wings
over a cradle of planted flowers
