Morning sun glistens off backs
of black cows bending to graze
on green clover, steam
glowing from nostrils like halos
of unsuspecting angels.

Exuberant Swallows dive
beneath, above, around, through
the bridge on Highway 3,
morning sun shadowing
their concrete playground.

These gifts, these blissful days
when a traveler remembers
being 18, graduating
and all the roads looked bright,
beckoned adventure.

In time all roads curve
into themselves, into the center
of being, but that is not
your concern now. Today
you must follow

every path you cross, search
every metaphor like a child
chasing daisies in the field
next door. Every day
is a poem and every poem

reveals a world of hope,
layer upon layer of truth
immersed in beauty, streams
in the hills, sunrise
on the prairies, sandy coasts,

jagged calico rocks, every
green tree, every wild
rose, indeed the spectrum
of every colored flower greets
your discovery, awaits

the courage of recognition,
the test of honesty.
Any place you go, goodness
has already been there —
It is but yours to flourish.

From Sunlight & Cedar (Chicago: VACPoetry, Hedgehog Press, 2020)
Used here with permission.