The raven lifts from the rutted dirt road,
purple-black against the dusting of snow,
his wings curved and curled
as he navigates his landing
on the bouncing jack pine bough.
I drive by in my father’s muddied Blazer,
craning to see him as I pass.
How easily he manages such things—
a lack of straight lines,
and delightful disregard for gravity
as he stares at me, passing.
I have only these twin pillars of legs,
And practical though they may be,
I sometimes long for roots
That can leave the ground and dance
With wind currents and other
Unexpected and undeserved
Find the entire poetry collection This Nurturing Awe: Poems Inspired by the 99 Beautiful Names of God at