Unknown Photographer
After the storm:
Jade. Mint. Olive. Emerald.
How vastly these greens transcend my vision!
And, my vision . . . how infinitely
it pulses to the cadence of Demeter!
The sun glints off a dewy blade of grass.
The light streams in through a sliver of open window.
The air is honeyed with the scent of rose and helianthus.
The crape myrtles dally in the richness of earth and sky.
The fire of life burns vivid, unhurried, idyllic.
I still.
Quiet, now.
My window—animated with spirit—leans
into a stray breeze.
I am inside outside.
And, I am sun. And, I am rain.
And, I am seed. Cracking.
Snapping. Eager to sprout.
Somewhere within this auspicious paradox
lives a certainty that resonates like gold.
