Every moment trumpets
an annunciation if you only look:
the light reflecting off waves,
the branches keeping guard
over buds until fullness of spring.
Each blade of grass, every living thing
waits to dazzle
at the appointed moment
when it unfurls
like an embryonic seedling.
For light has no vanishing point;
Mount Taylor’s white magnifies light
while the pale blue cloak of sky
warms the gray of bark and branch.
Meanwhile, in the flattened foreground,
Earth, as she both
absorbs heat and scatters light,
warms the green
inside the seed coat—
all of life hurtling forward.