Did You whisper to me at dawn?
Did I first sense You in the scent of that
Crisp, bright, fresh California morning as
Sunlight crept over the sleeping foothills?
I stood, a child, sneakers sunk deep in
New-green, dew-soaked grass,
Inhaling air the night had washed
Sweet and clean. There was something …
A poignantly beckoning trace of ….
What? I didn’t know. I only knew
I wanted, no, needed to draw deeply,
Fill myself with that heady, winey brew.
“Hold it …. Hold it! Don’t let it out! There’s something here.”
Was it You?
Did You veil Yourself in rain
And woo me as I wandered alone in
Rolling pastures brambled in blackberry
And cupped between oak trimmed hills?
Crossing the rough plank bridge over
The irrigation ditch, face damp with
Heaven’s tears, hands sunk in my pockets,
I moved pensively through a landscape
Of softly blurred edges, shrouded in a
Gray, misty silence. Wet, but safe, with
The distance I often seem to crave.
Still, there was something … a quietly aching
Emptiness yearning to be filled, a searching for completion.
Was it You?
Did You court me with lilacs when
Spring broke winter’s bony, dead-gray grip?
The sky was new, reborn in sunlight,
Blue like a robin’s egg. And suddenly,
There were lilacs. Heads like purple lace.
An explosion of scent, unbearably sweet,
Potent. Almost intoxicating. I was drawn.
I would press my face into the blossoms,
Inhaling greedily, the breath of hope.
Joy would overtake me then,
And a longing–undefined, gently piercing.
I wanted the lilacs to bloom without end,
Forever perfuming my world with their unspoken promise.
Was it You?
Moments I tried to hold on to,
When a song, a scent, a sunrise–
Some flash encounter with the sublime–
Would prompt my heart to murmur, “There’s more.”
Was it You?
