Poetry of Your Making

When you pulse from a blueberry bush, you know to grasp and pull its berry as it is ready, as it is dust and opaque. When the bush opens to itself, it grows, it flourishes into more and lightens with the sun, its heat bearing on its opening, its many, its fruit, its fruitful, and its fullness into form. When you know to wait, be open to its glory and be open to its need and its meaning.

Summer and me, we flourish, we grow with all of its glory and what it offers in every form of Garden, and of Eden, yet lonely making also calls for all to know as alone and being are of its own making as well. So be holy to its creation and its rescue and its running nature of peaceful awareness and its course before God.