Awakenings
A poem about the beauty of creation.
The sky holds a smokelike hue
as the simmering substance of fire rises.
Fingers of light mold the clay of creation,
sculpt vagueness, uncloak ambiguities,
gathers the world to itself once again.
Morning light shears bark over bole and branch,
unmasks rough, shimmering intricacies,
shines over great gatherings of leaf,
veined and verdigris.
Blades of grass become luminous.
Dogwood, honeysuckle, and hyacinth
are revealed. Horsetail and ragweed,
wind-trembled, plume their seed.
Fleeting wing-beats convert
into hungry sparrows, vivid blue jays
and the coppery-breasted robin
stabbing for thick worms
oozing up from green, dew-sodden earth.
In an orange-tinged room
a formless soul opens
cloudy, drowsy-lidded eyes,
blinks, unveiled
before the coming of a new world.
