I say watch the birds flicker, when the sun begins to ease over the horizon.
And you say, look at the reflection of pines, over the pond, like oil strokes on canvas—
green with pink hue.
And I say, think of how the sun rises, and the field of young corn lifts,
and cranes overhead reflect off the water—
And you say, if the sun chooses not to rise,
if it decides to blink, and burn out,
think of the vigor of the world that you know is there,
but cannot see.
And I say, think of the slow death of grasses,
and of the grand catalpa trees,
and how bluegills will begin to float
atop water.
And you say, yes, water will freeze.
And I say leaves will yellow and harden to stone…
And you say, yes, yes—we are little suns that can make the world rise!
And I say, yes, yes,
or we are little suns that can make the world die.
