Litany
Litany
Jenny Selting Troester
“You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.”
-Billy Collins
You are the dew on the morning grass,
the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the sweat on my skin
and the yearning inside my sacred spaces.
You are the red-hot fire inside my soul,
and the lion in the tall grass, waiting.
Get Jenny Selting Troester’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
However, you are not the dry desert,
the withering berries on the counter,
or the empty plastic bags in the trash.
And you are certainly not the hog-scented air.
There is just no way that you are the hog-scented air.
It is possible that you are the butterflies in my belly,
maybe even the gold at the end of the rainbow,
but you are not even close
to being the hard pebbles at the water’s edge.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the snow boots in the corner
nor the white sheep asleep in its pin.
It might interest you to know,
Speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the timid sound of wondering if it’s real.
I also happen to be the light in the window,
the puppy waiting at the door
and the warm bread sitting on the stove.
I am also the stars in the sky
And the young woman’s amethyst crystal.
But don’t worry, I’m not the dew on the morning grass.
You are still the dew on the morning grass.
You will always be the dew on the morning grass,
not to mention the burning wheel of the sun.
