after Rumi
If the fruit’s russet-red in the tree
If the birds make tedium into song
If the mob of crows is an ode
If the longed-for reveals itself as it does
If the ephemeral flowers out of sorrow
If tomorrow points its chisel at the world
If all that is ours is beloved, today.
[LAG-signature date=”02 14 2012″ url=”http://morningporch.com/2012/02/159122358/”]