So often the path leads nowhere, backs up into brush,
disappears, ends in a parking lot, butts into wire.
Some days I’m longing for something to lift me like a birth-
day to where I am praised just for coming—just for staying on.
Wood frogs cluck like popcorn. So many lessons bubble
up if you know where to look. Infinity is full of minute
particulars. The world is made for us. Our roots
go down deep.
How to crawl back into a dream?
Be still and the earth will speak to you. Scripture
is about heaven coming to earth.
The Divine comes to us disguised as our life.
A phrase to carry with you wherever you go:
Everything is food. Every last thing: the phone
call we didn’t want to answer, the raisin toast
spilling over with cream cheese and marmalade,
the dog barking in the night.
We have tools. Eyes to watch, hands to soothe,
our minds to fasten to breath, our breath to words,
to curse and to praise our ragged world.
Something in us will rise up to meet the moment.