"Renascence" by John Muro
Renascence
Certain that I have loved
as best I could and that I
have so little left to care for,
I gladly choose to give up
my heart and settle here,
on the woodland floor,
leaf-still with a life
of longing ended and
no memory of having fallen;
subsisting beneath the
nodding fronds of maiden-
head fern and the late
afternoon’s pour of dappled
light, taking in the thrush’s
exquisite offertory to oblivion
as the world exhausts itself
and unhurried day melts
into dusk, much the way
I silently relinquish myself
in soft sacrifice, bleeding
out the last of color and
musty odors of decay,
while seasons arc then
bend to greening and
all falls back into the
fertile underside of earth.
Photo Credit: Staff