by Ana Reisens
An Origin
I know this place.
I’ve visited this meadow before –
here, where the moths dangle
and the fireflies hold
their rituals.
This is where it all
comes into being –
crickets,
condensation,
earth –
and time blurs
as if the word beginning
had no end.
Come, sit with me.
Let’s listen
to the meadow breathing
as we witness
the horizon’s
great unveiling.
***
A droplet of water forms on an icicle
The sun filters
fingers
of light
as time
suspends
between ice
and sky.
In this space
I wait
for the change,
for some unnamed force
to intervene,
for the earth’s
mass to tug
molecules
to the ground,
breathless,
hesitant,
like silence
before sound.
***
An invitation
There’s a jewel-eyed
brightness between the lilies
of the river for those who know
how to speak to dragonflies.
Can you hear the yellow bee,
the humming roots of the beech
& honeysuckle tongue
of the breeze? Can you sense
the dew-covered tulips
tapping at your window?
They’re asking you
to translate.
Editors’ note: “An Origin” originally appeared in Belmont Story Review.
About the photographer: Jessie Ludwig is a writer who shoots 30mm photography from Colorado. Her Twitter handle is under the pen name, Jessie Gionet, @Jessea_dreams.
Beautifully spiritual.