There is always
more opening to do,
especially beside the river
when the sun is low,
or especially in the kitchen
when the hum of the fridge
ohms through the ache
that rides the belly,
or when speaking
of love the voice breaks
and the heart breaks
and more love pours in.
There is always more
opening, especially now
when I am no longer a thin green shoot.
Grace, says my friend,
grace and nature, that
is all there is, and I
could not explain to you
what she meant, but
I knew sure as the luminous
moon that I will never reach,
sure as a morning glory
opens to the sun
that it was true.