of poetry finds it womb.
From the imperceptible breath
of photosynthesis, carbon
dioxide and water mystically melded,
oxygen generated, released.
The heat of growth breathes and bubbles
in the cauldron of creation.
Cool winters dream the seeds, fruit
releases from its pulpy uterus
like water escaping from a cylinder in vapor.
It's the transformation that calls us,
the energy ignited in changed
molecules, the sudden event we neither
perceive nor understand.
God brushes our mouths with finger tips
transfiguring halting words
into language of nuts and stews,
roiling and frothing,
the initiation of thought and idea
making us Jeremiahs released
from the paralysis of infantile speech.