Monday, September 30, 2024

Does the bud know
the bloom it will become?
How its petals will unfurl
just so? Does it know
the sacred architecture
it holds? The radiant
perfection it will unfold
when it wakes, bleary
one morning? Or does
its dance and delicacy,
its curves and fecundity
surprise even itself?


love notes
a ritual to start the week

Christopher Shepard