In the Beauty of Earth Itself

I want you to write about me,

she said.

Yes, he said, I will.

He wrote about hummingbirds

wildflowers, animals who roam the earth

free

The beauty of the earth itself

and gave her the poems.

She felt disappointment

that he had left her out of his vision

She walked the slowly eroding mountain

and saw a hummingbird in her nest,

still as the tiny bird's awareness

of the very large human.

For a moment, she became the tiny bird

sheltering the future of her species

bearing the future

through danger

as she had borne and protected her children,

her love

for him, for life.

She became the grey doe,

stepped quietly under trees,

stopped motionless and blended into background

of pine trees, duff, low brush,

became earth itself, spinning

eternal in an eternal universe.

Poetry recreated itself in her senses.

She understood he had always written about her,

When he wrote about the hummingbird,

When he wrote about the motionless grey doe,

When he wrote about the beauty of the earth

spinning brilliant among brilliant stars.