What if this is all we get of heaven?
—James Crews, “Small, Good Things”
And if this is it,
this night
with its scent
of lawn newly mown
and the undammed river
high in its banks
and the baby bunny
eating every pansy
I just replanted,
yes, if this is it,
this kind voice
that returns
to tell me
I am enough,
though mostly
I doubt such truth,
if this is it,
the penstemon
blooming purple
and cottonwood fluff
piling thick in every corner
and my desk a mess
with work I can never
hope to finish
and the loss
that is relentlessly sad,
if this is it,
then yes, I say yes,
I am here for this,
here, between the ache
and the sweeping
flight of the swallow,
here, between
the fallen tree
and the laughter
that won’t stay in,
I say yes, yes,
if this is it, yes,
I would do it all again.