clouds turned cantaloupe electric,
backlit in neon.
That must be where God lives, I thought,
though I don’t much believe in God.
Sunsets are reason enough to imagine
that heaven’s in the sky —
a transcendent finale,
coda of the day.
As years count down, I think
about sunsets, seasons —
Perhaps I should believe.
The closest I get is sunset —
For Poets United
“. . .the generosity of apples.”
A hopeful poem for Easter and Passover, by Patricia Monaghan, an activist in the women’s spirituality movement. You can read more about her life and her impressive list of publications here.
trees, in general; oaks, especially;
burr oaks that survive fire, in particular;
and the generosity of apples
seeds, all of them: carrots like dust,
winged maple, doubled beet, peach kernel;
the inevitability of change
frogsong in spring; cattle
lowing on the farm across the hill;
the melodies of sad old songs
comfort of savory soup;
sweet iced fruit; the aroma of yeast;
a friend’s voice; hard work
seasons; bedrock; lilacs;
moonshadows under the ash grove;
something breaking through
– Patricia Monaghan
First published in Grace of Ancient Land