Our white bells

trumpet the miracle

of large, open whiteness.

Don’t you see how

we fill this world,

her tired canvas,

with buoyant promise?

We are the mind unjumbled,

excellent voice that calls

the dark spin of your life

into question. Our opening

shuts the door on doubt,

our lifting heads wag in blue wind,

gracious leaves curl in concert

with the white stretch of our throats.

We are never far from ourselves

like you,

yet we lean into blue sky

and that is miracle enough.