At Quittie Creek

the most incredible thing
happened to me.

I don't know why
it landed in my lap.

I fear telling you,
speaking it out, 
may weaken it.

I saw a woman
pure and holy,

motionless as I was,
both of us transfixed
by a crisp flock
of crimson cardinals,
the most I have ever seen
in one spot.

For five minutes 
I watched them
before even noticing

A mystic
right under my very nose
so still,
on the opposite creek bank
that I'm still not convinced
          she was real.

To share knowledge of her
is to profane some holy mystery.

And yet
I am compelled to tell you
she exists

Crosslegged in the snow
under a grove of bamboo,
a basket in one hand,
the other upturned.

The cardinals
swoop closer and closer

I saw one
          almost brave enough
          to land.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s