Advent at the Reservoir
I don’t know anymore who You are
or care how many names you have.
It is enough that when the old man’s
gnarled hands cannot fasten a zipper,
his friend kneels before him to help.
It is enough that even two dark
military transport planes disappear
into fish scale clouds presaging rain.
It is enough that mallards pull in
their heads while paddling furiously
out into cold, gray water.
And it is wondrously, gloriously more
than ever enough that notes from a
Shaker tune hold and hold and hold
while words come, “Dance, then…”
And one whole created day is held,
shimmering, contained with
two quarter beats.
1992
Thank you, Mary, for reminding us that the wonders around us are enough.