Your Mirror

From root to crown

the oak tree gives You glory,

in sap and leaf

on branches

where squirrels play

and the bluejay squawks his morning joy.

Light becomes food,

water and sugar into sap

and acorns,

autumn harvest for

crow, squirrel, human,

and a gift to the earth

that may sprout a seedling in the spring.

A pair of doves build a nest here,

make love, make eggs,

chicks hatch,

fledglings test their wings,

and seedlings grow

in the shade of their mother.

Leaf,

star,

woman

looking out her window at dawn –

what do we have in common?

When the body becomes Your mirror,

leaves drink light,

and I make it into a song of praise.

(Title from a poem by Mahadeviyakka)

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Mary Camille Thomas

Mary Camille Thomas is a native of Santa Cruz who is grateful to make her home on the California coast once more after living internationally and on the road. She studied comparative literature at UC Davis and received a master’s degree in library science from UCLA, which gave her a way to earn a living while making a life among books. Her poetry and essays have appeared in the Monk in the World Guest Post Series, Moving Force Journal, Presence, Porter Gulch Review, Second Wind, Sisters Singing, and The New Story, and she has completed a novel called What Lies Buried about a man reckoning with his family’s Nazi past. View all posts by Mary Camille Thomas

3 thoughts on “Your Mirror”

Lovely, Mary, just lovely. Thank you.

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Beautiful, and we are all the women looking out as mirrors.

Thanks Love, Jean

On Sun, Oct 1, 2017 at 9:45 AM, The Kingdom of Enough wrote:

> Mary Camille Thomas posted: ” From root to crown the oak tree gives You > glory, in sap and leaf on branches where squirrels play and the bluejay > squawks his morning joy. Light becomes food, water and sugar into sap and > acorns, autumn harvest for crow, ” >

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