In the Garden

I saw you today, Lord, at 4:46 eastern time.
Saw you in the red fire of the blueberry bushes
pressed up against the edge of the garden.

Your glory luminescent in the leaves,
in the infinite droplets everywhere hanging
and falling.

As if this weren't enough, I saw you
hiding beneath the thorns— one full,
barely ripe raspberry, calling

"where are you?"

So I put you in my mouth. What else
could I do, but take you in communion.



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