An Expectation of Rapture
A single blade of grass, or a meadow.
One bird singing, or a flock.
A wave that laps against your knees
or knocks you down in shock.
The wind that tickles your forehead
then pushes a fist in your back.
Gleaming or glaring, timid or bold
tread the beckoning path.
You need only to be open.
Consent to learn and love.
Stand silent or rejoicing,
let the moment be enough.
Now she comes upon you.
Set your leaping mind at ease.
Let yourself be swallowed whole.
But come unarmed, in peace.
This poem was inspired by reading the following quote by Diane Ackerman from her book The Moon by Whale Light: “I don’t know how to describe what happens to me when I’m out in ‘nature’ and ‘working’ — it’s a kind of rapture — but it’s happened enough that I know to expect it.”