God's cows are in the fields,
safely grazing. I can see them
through the bare branches,
through the steady rain.
Fir trees seem ashamed
and tired, bending under winter coats.
I, too, want to be light enough
for this day: throw off impediments,
push like a tulip
through a muddy smear of snow,
I want to take the rain to heart
and feel it move
like possibility, the idea
of change, through things
seen and unseen,
forces, principalities, powers.
Newton named the force that pulls the apple
and the moon with it,
toward the center of the earth.
Augustine found a desire as strong: to steal,
to possess, then throw away.
Encounter with fruit is dangerous:
the pear's womanly shape forever mocked him.
A man and a woman are talking.
Rain moves down and
branches lift up
to learn again
how to hold their fill of green
and blossom, and bear each fruit to glory,
letting it fall.