Sing

It is amazing
how a time
in a place
that was so long
and nearly unbearable ago
becomes the holiest of times
in one’s personal history.
This is what I’m thinking about.
It is evening. I sit by the birdbath
the water nymph surrounded
by green tendrils and flowers
that reach up for water and light.
Pink clouds in a blue sky
growing dark. The silhouette
of a bird at the top of the orange tree
sings. All the agony of accomplishment
obliterated in a song. To see the light
between the shadows of its beak
To take one’s place
on a branch of the Tree of Life
and sing!