Water asks of God only
Stillness—so that up from
Murky bottoms—through
The weavings of fish—chill
Spring light may call out
Dormant roots—humid summer
Light spread and spread green
Plates of being—Love calling
And calling to love—you
Calling to me—until in July
Row on row of petals circling into
Flower shapes—cradle slender
Fingers of yellow light—and ride
The stillness answering—Yes.
—Richard R. Guzman
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