by Elsa Johnson
Look here is God sparkling in the trees Rain
fell in the still-dark morning leaving bright
drops God-traces caught and cupped : in each leaf
a God-mote — and look here too is God’s bright
face wafting lofting in the delirious
perfumed air and the bees rest in the phlox
so darkly sated with God-drink they cannot
move
// For days now we have been hearing
first here then there calling each to each a
hawk and her child a fledgling full lost
in the pain of its impending parting
crying find me feed me mother! Lying
here with my knee pain pained by the world’s deep
need and pain I too cry : Find me! Seek —
2
In the dark hours I wake to some small beast
in terror fending off attack In this
too is the divine — that face we do not
like to face Then in day back on my
porch warmth dazed once more I watch bemused
the hum and happy-seeming-ness of life :
goldfinch on sunflower robin hopping to
feed her own fledgling standing in the street
with mouth agape knowing that above
somewhere is a young hawk learning to feed
itself It took to the air They are aloft
now We see them soaring swooping — low
shadows swift across the earth
// There is a
cold clean current hidden in the day’s warm air
3
Some weeks have passed My knee is healing
It’s been a gift to be obliged to watch
wait wonder The hawk child is far ranging
now flies wide climbs high it’s voice a distant
pulse a language passing through the air
sharing information I can only
guess — how perhaps there is a vole darting
from bush to hole upon the earth below
What dangers of rare devising await
a hawk not yet wise to its world? And that
other fledgling?
// It rained again The rain fell in
the still-dark morning God-motes — bright drops
sparkling — caught and cupped within each
leaf and the bees rest darkly in the phlox