Resonance

I’m in love with Mother Wisdom,

how she arrives arranging light

in tangled curls of morning pines

and orange-surging sky, hoping

to teach us what we already know, 

and how to listen

  to the world,

  to the silence,

  to the holy,

  to ancestors and place,

and how to eavesdrop

on the conversation blue

trees were having all night long

about how we’re just bodies

trying to carry fire, furnaces

within, ablaze inside, kindled

by what’s been given.

I’m in love with her more-than-sensous,

electric voice speaking through what is.

Sometimes I get tired of being in love

with everything, but not for long.