Mavka #8.

by Padma Thornlyre

I am not so full of wine and elk medallions grilled rare
that I forsake utterance.  Lichens, too, have filled me up, near

cactus -flowers and the ashes of old friends.

I prefer the dirt and muddy
road over the paved,

bandura over techno,
for the sky’s gifts
I am grateful.

God, I am so much less than you!
In your doe – eyes I am nothing.

In your warmth I remain self–conscious — such prayers

of mine are stuttered!  You are, in this March snow,
my woodstove, my radiance of aspen log and pine.