Just before noon I step out back
to take a break from wondering
what my life will become.
The sun is on the flower bed,
turning the poppies into
small bowls of light.
How simply they make
their offering:
nectar for the bees,
pollen for each other,
subtle bows to their low sky.
One flower is just emerging
from its small, green cocoon,
the rich orange petals still sheathed
in the home it’s grown out of.
I kneel down and—
like the gentlest prayer
—slide off its whole, close world.
I guess sometimes birth comes easy.
Sometimes it’s as simple as revealing
what’s already whole.
I recently published a new book that features this poem plus many others to accompany you through every season of life.
It’s called The Wilderness That Bears Your Name.
You can see all the details here: