Spell to Cultivate Gentleness
Cull the petals
from this year’s roses,
until they rest in your palm,
a flock of yellow lambs.
Become quiet as
the slip of blue
trailing the skink as he runs
to a calmer scrap of sun.
Borrow the umber
from the wheat and
gild the barbed stalking
of wild thorns.
Mellow what is bitter,
careful as a honey bee
who knows death
inside the sting.
When your blister-mouthed
daughter comes to you
seeking water,
give her your every drop.
Think of milk
and let it soothe you
like the white silk that waves
once the war is over.
Leave a Reply