Mother Nature

Every time I set my glass down, it leaves a ring.

Cool water in that familiar shape of infinity.

Little planet of molecules, combed right out of the air, as if cloud carried.

I fall to my knees in reverence, complex miracles of mundanity, this sparkling symphony, our beloved galaxy.

Phenomenon of thunder clouds banging with soul-splitting sound, rain falling from the open hand of gravity.

So tender are the leaves that raise their flags on the branches of trees, offering shade from sun's blazing heat.

Eclipsed by winter woe and longing, we lick our wounds and lay in wait for mother's womb to deliver spring.