Good Morning From Us.

[Guest guest]

This orchard has become a peach

consumed by its own sweetness.

Right now, there is a rocky field,

where the stones

are grinding themselves to diamonds.

Dear ones with one hand

write love notes to every sweetheart,

and mother them

with that other hand, kept in Gods breast.

Somewhere a nightingale sings one last

utterly poignant note

and we all fall down drunk

into the heart of this whirlpool.

 

Jesus arrives laughing, with a knowing wink.

He has peeped out from under our shrouds

and has said you to this morning.

He gives you a name for your heart.

Soon you will hear it.

Soon you will hear some one say it,

and know it is yours alone.

 

I have no bothersome cleverness in me.

I am a wind blown leaf of a book

that everyone writes.

We have sympathy pains,

but they are not contagious.

They are just ripening fruits in this sweet orchard.

I love the way you look to me.

You are all too good looking

to be anyone but my steady date.

My dancing partners are harvested apple blossoms,

gathered by this zephyr of loves reaping.

 

Everyone wakes up in this one smile,

and pokes a winsome tongue out

for the dew of God to flavor.

I myself, have the color of every blush,

the cheek of the devil,

and the content of joy

poured out for children to paddle in.

Their little wet feet go splashing in me;

lotus leaves bursting in sunshine.

 

Ripe buds hang from the hedgerows

and turn to golden Buddha’s.

Spring comes early

and is full of praise for your patience.

We all get true vision

in a glass lightly.

I lift this cup of you to my lips

and everything turns to prayer.

 

love

 

eric

 

 

 

Copyright 2002. Eric Ashford.