Licking the residue of beeswax honey
to a smooth cool of teaspoon underneath
can be beginning birth of a major poem.
And succulent blackberries grace our lives when after
attacking bushes the years before, their dead--
like remnants grow the glory of early breakfast.
These carnal clues, how patiently that inner
center scatters trivial visits throughout
our generous lives. Within an open moment,
trivial circumstances share their major
poems in us, tear-light lumination
of all our seemingly shallow shambles of years.