Equinox

Tell me about the long distance

across unwatched spaces.

Our ancestors didn’t just mark the seasons.

They ordered their lives around them

out of necessity for survival.

Tell me about a thin path along

fringes of yellow-rust mountains.

And there’s something wise about paying attention

to rhythms that got us where we are.

Tell me about how hard it is to live

in between a constancy of gray

erosion and the eruption of colors.

Summer and winter solstices speak

a language of scarcity and abundance.

Tell me when you first discovered God is both

ground of existence and field of your becoming,

always becoming, moment by moment,

process by process, here and now.

But spring and autumn are tipping points

of balance, and balance is one of Earth’s

greatest gifts.

Tell me that you’ll listen to another turn

in life’s unfolding toward love and daily bread.