I thank the maples for their nakedness,
that I may be clothed in a sea of crimson.
I thank the oak trees for their diligence,
that I have acorns enough to string dozens
of necklaces. The sandhill cranes leave on
eastern winds giving scatter to asters still
searching for fields, and I thank them for
their kindness. I thank the sky and clouds
blurring indigo blue and the sunlight sink
of sherbet. I thank the lodestar lobbing its
opal eye and the chitter of crickets hidden
in silt for calling the twilight with gladness.
I thank the space held beneath the owl’s wings,
the breath of starlit carousels, for drawing
my mind into silence. Then, when everything
is quiet, I thank God I have seen the harvest.
Aisling Cruz is a Midwest-based poet and artist. Her work has appeared in Vessels of Light, Foreshadow, and Gotham Literature, among others.