Praise the God of ephemera:
ice on wood pile and shadow on snow
clouds that quicken across the day
tracks of Dark-eyed Junco
whitecaps on slate grey
harbour seals' slick shimmer.
Praise the God of containers and all they hold:
gull eggs and whelks and wasp nests
wells, and apples which keep the seed
the secret place where the faun rests
tidal pool and cattail reed
the fishing net, the pail, the sheepfold.
Praise the God of empty things:
low tide, abandoned field, turtle shell
dead tree broken off and hollowed
beached rowboat, old stone cellar
snake's shed skin, ditch along the road
the inner structure of the eagle's wings.
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Thanks for commenting here. Though I usually don't respond to comments I do read and appreciate each one. If you'd like a response to a specific question it's better to email me at anne.yarbrough@gmail.com.