by Geoffrey Ayers
What do you see in the wooded edge that carves around the prairie?
The sun carving spots on our skin
And wrinkles proving what we have seen.
We wish to be old.
We wish to be illuminated so each crag
And pocket on our worn faces becomes a valley.
We care not what the sun will show us,
Whether terror or joy.
We only wish to see what reflects the light
And so be changed.
And what will you leave after you die?
Ashes mostly,
In the imprint
Of a buffalo footprint
In southern Minnesota.
May many new births spring
Forth from the
Rainy pool that forms.
But if even half a dwarf trout lily blooms,
It is enough.
We hope that life will repeat. Like raindrops,
Like leaves, like rain on fallen silty leaves,
Until there is enough damp, enough fungus,
Enough creeping pointing, grabbing mycelium,
To hug the precious soil tight.
And when these roots are deep, a raucous,
Playful bulb will
Appear in the shade
Of a tree’s branches.
Geoff Ayers is a poet born & raised in the Twin Cities and educated at the University of Minnesota. When not working his day job in marketing, he writes about the many ways that transcendence that breaks into ordinary life. In everything, he hold the tensions of his identity, Gen-Z and ancient, midwestern and global, ecclesial and worldly, tight and seeks their full expression. You can find his previous creative work in The Runestone Journal, The Tower, and The Paper Lantern or on his Substack at geoffayers.substack.com.
header image: “Dwarf trout lily during survey: April 14, 2010.” by U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service – Midwest Region is marked with Public Domain Mark 1.0. (Cropped
One Comment
Henry Lewis
Very nice. Evocative.