Heavy bodied,
the magnolias crowd together,
open pink lips in bliss,
exhale praise.

The whole tree,
bends at the waist before her gods;
sunlight
rain
earth
equinox,
she grows hundreds of petals for each,
I cannot count them all.

Pink prayers
fall at my feet
as I walk home;
springs most decadent blessings
- I tuck them in my pocket
                       I may need, to borrow their litanies of gratitude,
              worship has been hard for me recently
but the day's grow longer,
the light
tangles in my soft curls
and the magnolias
dress the streets in delicate hymns.
I
am remembering how to smile
just for myself
and who says that this
is not worship?