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