The Cloth God Weaves
A poem for Thanksgiving.
Every tree, every growing thing as it
grows, says this truth: You harvest what
you sow. With life as short as a half-
taken breath, don’t plant anything but
love. The value of a human being can
be measured by what he or she most deeply
wants. Be free of possessing things.
Sit at an empty table. Be pleased with
water, the taste of being home. People
travel the world looking for the Friend,
but that one is always at home! Jesus
moves quickly to Mary. A donkey stops
to take in the scent of another donkey.
There are simple reasons for what happens:
you won’t stay clear for long if you sit
with the one who pours wine. Someone
with a cup of honey in hand rarely has
a sour face. If someone says a eulogy,
there must be a funeral nearby. A rose
opens because she is the fragrance she
loves. We speak poems, and lovers down
the centuries will keep saying them.
The cloth God weaves doesn’t wear out.