I’ll Try Not to Worship You
but what a blessing you are
through all the seasons,
dappled light on a green meadow,
warm sun and petrichor,
a smile that curves into autumn
with ease, comfort, joy,
rusty leaves shivering in pearly snow-thaw,
shaking off December detritus
the way a dog shakes after a bath,
frisky, ready to play,
then, biting down on the ouroboros ring
come spring,
where I find you today,
making the best of this life,
pulling me along with you, like the moon
at night,
in a vacuum of kindness,
the way I hope to be remembered, too.