Figure and Ground Poem
In the summer I walked a trail, trying to accept things as they are.
Living among the small things.
For six weeks there was no rain; I took in the bright fields,
then the languid creek where two herons lifted over the water
as if their carriage were itself the air.
But it was God I was talking to now, not because the flowers,
had a stricken beauty, but because for the first time,
I commanded him, ordered him,
to notice me.
from Among the Monarchs