Some days, good poetry is what the Soul needs; for poetry is one of the many languages of God. So, today I post one of my favorite M.C. Richards’ poems…she is a royal gem in the crown! EnJoy…
Sitting in the roofless tent, listening…
See all natural forms, he said, not as forever fixed
but as expressing a tendency toward another form
I saw you last night, evening primrose, preparing to open:
in an instant you changed from bud to bloom,
pulling back the outer sheath as the petals expanded and
became flower. And the tendency then, barely visible,
to lose moisture, to wilt, to droop, to shrink, to drop,
to become earth.
I feel in myself the growing tips of age:
to travel without an agenda, to seek a new furniture
of emptiness and silence where I can voluptuously sit
as in a pool of warmth, living toward dying,
blooming into visibility.