Introduction

This Morning
Couples Counseling
Brunch
After the Latest Mass Shooting
Carry Me into the Dark
Light the Candle
Creation, Part 1
Witness
Creation, Part 2
When You Are Weary
Riversong
Trumpet, Feet, Drums
On Grieving
The Scent of Cedar
A Prayer for My Queer and Trans Siblings
I Would Like to Be Buried Alive
Another Icarus
Poison Ivy
Legacy of a Body
Run, Run
How to Fall in Love with the World
Love Is Calling
Empty Nest
If My Soul
Grounding
Heart Emoji
The Case for Drudgery
Where the Heart Was
Spring Prayer
The Cathedral Is Everywhere
The Midwife
Conch Shell
The Coal Miner’s Canary
Autumn Prayer
San Francisco, 1993
Mirror, Mirror
Saturday Morning Run
Meeting Georgia O’Keefe in a Museum
Everywhere, Everywhere
This Prayer Is for You

RUN, RUN

This body is a wild one:
love ripping through these veins
like fire across a prairie,
eager and hungry and holy.

Wilder still are the humming bees
that make this garden their home,
the sharp sunset color
in the dying autumn leaves,
the river running so fast
it trips over its own feet
and tumbles down a mountainside.

This heart is chasing that river,
chasing the fish swimming downstream
and the leaves about to touch soil
and the tide pulling away from the shore.
This heart is sprinting down dirt paths,
breathing so hard she might crack open.

All this running, and all for this:
She wants to love like thunder,
love like the smell of honeysuckle,
love with all the reckless abandon
of summer afternoon rain.