Perhaps it began as a crack, some small space

where love entered and soon put down roots.

I did not know it was there, had not

watered, nor fertilized nor spayed.

Who could believe that love’s seed

could be so tenacious, that thin blood

could be so fecund. That what began

as a crack could splay into wide fields

of sprawling green yeses where before

there’d been no sense of lack—there were

plenty of penstemon, Solomon’s seal.

And now look how much fuller the

love-laden field. I change my name

to Meadow, I dress in dappled light.

New tendrils twine in faithful bones

and sometimes I feel quite inhabited

by beauty that isn’t my own. Welcome rain.

Welcome sun. Welcome tremble of wind.

Oh thank you oh thank you, the prayer finds wings,

I did not know I was waiting to be chosen.

for Jude Janett, November 5, 2009


One thought on “Perhaps it began as a crack, some small space

  1. Only now that the poems have peddled their way to where they could be on the road, only now with your strong poet legs running next to mine did I take the time to stop and feast at this gift you gave. Thank-you woman of words and beauty.


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