That I, too, can—-Bloom, fragrant in the warm
Wind that blows only now, this crucial moment
In the circle around the sun—-only now, again.
One more time I ask of you, my poem, to open
And reveal, show and release. There are rifts
I see, shadows under the sumac casting ever-
Moving patterns groundward that could be
The empty places, could be the purpose of light.
So I’ll praise you here, hare, and hope
It’s enough to find my way to the end.
