Come to Morning

Turkey hens and chicks pattering through the yard, and robin songs rising before the sun. Did you know that blue jays can mimic the sound of other birds? Jay feathers in driveway cracks, on black wood chips and one beneath the giant fern.

Birds as acharyas. Blue as home.

This morning a ghost knocked a hot cup of coffee out of my hands, making me laugh out of respect for a move well played. This and other ways to come to morning.

Softly stepping around garden edges to snip herbs – rosemary, chives, dill. A knowing pools around the edges of my eyes:

Women are reorganizing the conversation, beloved. We have no desire to wear the robes or mantle of a khan. We are shunning restrictive coverings and would prefer to operate naked.

Daisies for gems.

Fires for warmth.

Freedom for our soft frame.

No more poisoned apples and instead, we sip nature's sweetened nectar, pollinating as we go. All holy houses are opening. We've waited eons but we are now on the move. Accept the invitation to witness our gardens.

Come, disrobe and know joy.