by Paul J. Willis

(Cornus nuttallii)

Dogwood blossoms mount into the sunshine
as if they were creators of light,
as if the air were only blue

because of them, as if the pale
cinnamon of sequoia bark were like
the moon, a borrowed glow.

If understory, the story under
all things else, stair-stepping
into sky like angels on a green-leafed ladder.

There, there, and even there
as friend with friend, taking us upward,
in heaven as it is on earth.

—Sequoia National Park

—from Say This Prayer into the Past


Poem of the Month: May 2014

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