Grace and Peace to you.
In the woods the trees
clap their little babyhands of green.
On the hillside they try on pink and mauve;
soon they will trade them for green.
Birdsongs fall like rain among the trees.
A couple of geese fly over singing,
spinning their long web
across the continent of the morning.
The marsh, swollen all March and April,
begins to breathe out,
its grasses green and another green,
and the bushes more greens.
I walk among them silent,
the world’s troubles in the pocket of my mind.
They are not uncaring,
even the little lump of toad
who may be watching me
and may be ignoring me.
Though they do not recognize
those woes in my pocket
they extend their blessing.
They invite me in,
me and all my kin,
where they belong to a greater Yes
that is also, if we will have it, ours.
May 21, 2020