There is a way to live that makes the angels cry out
in rapture. There is
a way to live that makes
each star a cell.
Come stand with me here, it is
cold I know, and silent,
nothing is happening.
The next breath, and the next, is the new life.
especially the willows and the honey locust,
equally the beech, the oaks, and the pines,
they give off such hints of gladness...
I am so distant from the hope of myself,
in which I have goodness, and discernment,
and never hurry through the world
but walk slowly, and bow often.
Around me the trees stir in their leaves
and call out, "Stay awhile."
The light flows from their branches.
And they call again, "It's simple," they say,
"and you too have come
with light, and to shine."