longing

longing

i come upon the white flower

in the green field and stop

not now having to do anything

more than this.

the flower is present to

all that is: wind, the soft peel

of the sun, the grass.

and so i am in this moment

the soft green slip

of stalk, the white crown

and pale center

of everything. i am the flower all

the way to my roots.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *