Untitled XII

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This could make me believe in god:
the bright green rippling grass,
shivering aspens,
a dull grey sky and a hint
of sunset gold behind mountains.
Ground squirrels bark – I am constantly
reassuring them and trying to see
the color of their tails – a raven
spreads its shadow winging
into thunder. I am paid
to be here but this gift
can’t be a job, with the sky
never-ending like the ocean,
a balm against cities, spicy sagebrush
scents clinging to my clothes.

Poem by Annie Jadin, speakingvoiceless.wordpress.com.

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