The Sondering Tree

I have positioned myself for sunset—  
waited all day for this moment         
Sunflowers are blooming  

Finches swallow their seeds—
unable to restrain themselves      
from what they determinedly pluck        
         
Their color makes it difficult    
to tell where they end        
and the petals begin;    
it is all specifically created    
for each in a grand design          
         
Tomatoes top vines, bulging green         
hardening red, beginnings of ripened    
flow above small clusters of marigolds  
huddled under the shadowed-weight          
     
Puffed pockets of cloud formations      
I haven't seen before, curdle    
between blue and sunset;        
a soft spider sack pulses with change  
every second that passes        
         
Over the stereo floats High Hopes    
and everything feels so holy—
even the iron grate of this table    
fashioned by hands, having no idea    
what realization would open      
upon its black surface        
         
Everything is a blessing to witness      
and experience;  a gnat is drowning      
in my old vine zin, floating      
in a drunken lethargy of death        
     
The chocolate melting on my tongue
will select my hips to nest within     
adding a few more inches to their girth          
         
Bats are out, and I'm at full attention—
camera ready, as deep apricot discends 
upon the last thread of blue
and green across the sky
      
silhouetting the Sondering Tree      
in an incandescent halo         
         
Everything is perfect: lighting—    
emerging stars; and I realize          
I could ask for no more    
in any wish or prayer    
than what I have now           
         
I think what to give in return    
that would be pure      
wouldn't desecrate a vow    
destroy a union       
would last forever in a memory      
of old age,  loved and unforgotten        
         
I read the Sondering Tree      
better than  a road sign;    
my entire Life has led me      
to this moment of capture --    
     
and in one click
it's done
     
I rise, pick up my wine glass      
now a pond for insects          
         
Wad the chocolate wrapper    
and head for my editing program;        
but, the image is perfect as caught    
     
The Universe makes no mistakes      
on where we're supposed to be
in the exact moment of our Life        
         
It orchestrates our hearts      
into a symphony of synchronicity;    
it weaves the inner part of our being    
until we are lost for words—    
left awestruck of its power      
and majesty within choice          
         
Like I am now; like you are    
like we are, forever and always      
despite circumstance and form      
         
We ask, "Do I deserve this? Truly?"      
     
The Universe answers, "You deserve    
what you came to experience; Surely."      
     
I swallow hard
as though it's the first ripe bite  
of a Christmas stocking orange
I's ever tasted when poor          
         
~