For the thing which I greatly feared is come upon me, and that which I was afraid of is come unto me.
- Job 3:25
Water the daisies.
Watch the dirt turn dark
Love the bees. Like you, they have
names and middle names,
Open your hand
to the tug and huff
of toddlers, the macaroni on the table
hardened to half-smiles, half-moons.
Watch the fish rise
from the lake of childhood.
See how they’re filled by the fruit of air.
Refine stillness. Let the good milk spill.
Praise each freckle,
a star in a constellation
of your vast fleshy galaxy.
Thank it —
what eats your heart
into grave simplicity, leaving it
easy to pack, the pit of a plum.
Guard your true promise. Be lucid
and wide. Animal-soft. Full as a bride.
What matters is nearly
invisible. Search for it
snout-like, close to the ground,
Poetry curated by Utah poet laureate Lisa Bickmore.