Consider the lilies of the field
their color drenched in a daily
sun wash: sweet sounds of aliveness –
no promise other than to reach, reach
and hold the moment of wind-warmed heat
from the sky light above and loamy earth under root.
Jesus says to consider and so that
holiest Spirit teaches of bird flight
where no prayer lingers alone,
lifting life instead upward into cloudless
echoes across the sacred opening - thinly
between this earth and the next.
Imagine being lilies or bird
steadied by the wet dew dripping from the grass
where the red worm struggles out of hiding
and the dragonfly is skimming a sip
to quench even the slightest breath of thirst.
There is no heart unopened:
everything is freely felt and unclasped.
We are all wild pilgrims in a native land,
who travel toward ascension, now held
by the mineral filled ground, showing us
how to dig deep, then fly.