I am going to where I can see the sun
rise,
and round and set.
To where the grass lays itself out
long and wide,
stretches to rest
in the lee of hills.
And rises to the roots of trees,
whose crowns in the sun’s passing gaze
turn golden at their edge.
I am going to where the dew
wet on the length of branches
catches the dawn,
and glistens like a body
warm from love.
To where the world for a day,
is lit up like a prize made
just for God.
And from which we might take a measure
for ourselves.
I am going home
to where the world’s turning years
recede.
To where the child in me
takes a hop, and a step across hills
from my youthful self
to here.
To where I will give the years to God,
and watch hurts dissolve as sun in mist.
And see joys lengthen out like fields,
growing as grass
new in Spring.
Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
April 2019
