Spring has kept her promise in two days’ heavy rain.
Unlocking the green on every branch,
nudging the graceful stems rising--topped with fat bundles, ready to burst.
And even in such a simple act as a stroll across the yard,
I can sense with every soft step, the fullness—
abundance waiting to be coaxed from the earth.
I walked on the night between them,
when a break in the clouds drew me up and out into the night air. With my flashlight catching every clean droplet, in colors so strong, wet beneath rain. Only the finest mist hung low, then, over the field, a lacy shawl gently wrapped around bare shoulders.
And, into a night sprinkled with stars, I stood between 2 owls calling.
Stepping out again the next morning, into a brief patch of sun, I find I was not the only one, busy in last night’s darkness. All across the field, wound thickly on tall brown stems, the work of small sheet-weaving spiders, snagging small drops from the heavy morning mist, setting this table with its finest.
From those who walk without a worry,
while I worry they will not walk.