Over every blade of grass, an angel bends,
whispering, grow, grow.
. . . an old Jewish proverb
Always, something remarkable is happening.
Tonight, for example,
the moon’s reflected light is ringing
a gauzy rainbow into the night sky
and peepers are celebrating Spring
with song.
Every time I imagine what I think I know
I am reminded how much I do not understand
how, say, winter flows into spring
and how buds and seeds seem to know
despite the cold and snow
to trust when their angels whisper,
“Grow, grow.”
Michael S. Glaser has published eight collections of poetry and served as Poet Laureate of Maryland from 2004 – 2009. . He is the co-editor of The Collected Poems of Lucille Clifton (BOA 2012). (more at http://www.michaelsglaser.com)
