O, to grace, how great a debtor
daily I’m constrained to be.
Let Thy mercy, like a fetter
bind my wandering heart to Thee.
~ “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing”
Dear recklessness, dear jeweled
hummingbird buzzing into the teeming
garden, I’ve followed your dizzy trail
these many years: from bed to bed, down
mountain trails, across oceans, to the last
bergamot flower’s four thin flagons nearly
wilted in the shade. So long I’ve dreamed
of climbing into a harness and zipping
across swaths of hidden forest, where
no one has yet catalogued the dream-shapes
of ferns and flowers beneath the canopy;
or dropping from a little plane with you—
one quick tug, and the pocket of silk
billows up like a mellow flame, its
rustle an ineffable name, to bear me
back down to checkered ground.
In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.