Thursday, September 12, 2019


We have learned
to see across

or through, beyond,
not into.

Not the flower
but the arrangement;

not the grasses
but the horizon;

not the stars
but the far darkness.

Mother Hawk
would counsel

patience, to sit
like a broken branch

in the naked tree
and wait. And wait.

What you see
will approach

in silence.
She says, Wait.

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