on_easter_morning
ovenbird
While
it's
been
a
long
time
since
I've
held
any
deep
set
religious
beliefs
I
am
still
enthralled
by
the
ritual
of
the
year's
turning
wheel
.
And
Easter's symbolism,
going
back
into
some
ancient
past
,
is
compelling.
The
human
heart
needs
to
believe
in
the
possibility
of
life
from
death
.
How
could
we
carry
our
grief
otherwise
?
And
the
spring
is
rife
with
examples
that
can
quell
at
least
a
small
bit
of
existential
dread
.
Back
on
the
west coast
my
garden
is
alive
with
a
thousand
beginnings
that
rise
up
from
rhizomes
beneath
the
dark
earth
.
I
don't
need
any
miracles
bigger
than
that
.
I
need
only
place
my
hands
in
the
soil
to
feel
my
own
wounds
healing
,
to
believe
in
something
benevolent
and
true
.
As
I
clear
the
garden
of
its
blanket
of
leaves
I
can
feel
the
watchful
eyes
of
a
song
sparrow
keeping
vigil
on
the
fence
post
and
no
god
I
know
of
brings
more
peace
or
wisdom
than
that
small
bird
who
carries
music
in
her
heart
and
is
crowned
with
glory.
250420
...
raze
birdsong
fights
to
be
felt
through
the
constant
onslaught
of
low_flying_planes
,
rising
and
falling
with
all
the
frailty
of
fervent
prayer
.
i
wave
at
a
small
spider
,
grey
and
opaque
.
salutations
,
i
say
.
i
cannot
drink
enough
of
what
i'm
made
of
to
douse
this
slow
-growing
flame
.
i
am
weathered
wood
and
a
dull
ache
that
will
not
be
coaxed
into
leaving
.
i
am
wind
-scattered
walnut
dust
and
all
the
nascent
dreams
of
everyone
who
will
never
know
me
.
hold
me
in
your
hand
for
a
while
.
then
watch
me
blow_away
.
250420
what's it to you?
who
go
blather
from
