POST 111: Beets at King’s Market, prayer,The Hawk’s Shadow, ART, Meditation

by Carol Bass


When at play in the universe
barriers melt and
fresh beets from the fields
become your heart

Gathering a bunch
of collards in your arms
becomes as precious as holding
the small child

whose soul was lost
way back
when the ghosts

shooed and swished
it away

But today
while we meditated
a juvenile red tail hawk
carried it back home to me

placing it quietly tenderly
on the porch railing
staring eyes to eyes
before flying away