Tell

Don't tell me about the end of the world. Tell me about the beginning of the world. A thousand colors of sky curled up in a raindrop, your wings in a tear. Next Summer's light on a brittle twig, wrapped in a gray cocoon. Self-healing fur in a mossy burrow. The blue egg waiting in a mother-swirl of sticks, She also the shaper of galaxies. Don't tell me how it ends. Tell me how it begins. How this breath is given, because you surrendered that one.

 

Photograph by Scott Elliot, an Autumn meadow near Mt. Rainier