Primary Mirrors

Today it seems I am

mirrored by those colors

speaking the world to plenty:

The hummingbird

and her ruby throat

tell how spring is a return,

how the heart is my own

kind of flower, opened

beats by light and water

and the blue into which

she flies is a sky speaking

how expanse is lonely and true,

how I am a contained vastness,

a canvas for budding green,

mineral silver, and all the

prismatic certainties of form

I am certain

that beauty speaks

truly, as if to become

equal to truth,

so that I may come to color

more fully, cyclically,

speaking their names

equally with the truth

of my name

because I too am

a mirror for

red, blue, yellow

bird, sky, sun

we collaborate in primacy,

and meanwhile

the world goes on,

opening, returning