When I returned Noe
to the earth and she sent

her staccato of sweetness up
into the unending sky,

I was not yearning
for more than I was given.

Then the blueberries got
to chattering all along

the lattice of the deck and
you rose from your empty

decade, your margin of darkness
to reach a bracken arm in.

Volunteer is what they call it
when a plant chooses you.

I did not know how to be chosen.
You showed me how the husk

of an old life becomes a chorus.
You showed me receiving

could be as simple as holding
up my empty hands.


Posted by kind permission of the poet.


Have you heard about our upcoming Grateful Grief Course?

Sign up below to be notified when course registration opens


Grief Nature
Poetry