Читать книгу The Wisdom of Wild Grace - Christine Valters Paintner - Страница 14

I met my muse today, a red tulip

with cherry lips open to the sun,

a chalice of daylight held up

to my thirsty mouth.

Another day she comes as the moon,

large marble making arcs above,

giving herself away until she’s gone,

then returns, becoming seed

and slowly sending white blooms

into the night again.

Tomorrow she might arrive

on thunderous waves of the sea,

brine in my eyes and throat

or the soft caverns of shells strewn

on shore, a reminder

of the places I long to dwell

and one day she might land,

yellow bird on a branch,

her song calling me to look up,

glimpse the space between

her notes where the song lives,

where the silence speaks all

I need to hear.