At the Edge of the Field
by
Radiance Angelina Petro

The broadminded morning slowly sips
the last of the night. The eye in the forehead
is flaxen gold. Left-over masala dosa for breakfast
is like eating truth.

Today is honeycombed
and smitten with flowers—the purple iris,
the morning glories, the tiger lilies.

When your mind tries to finagle in notions
of why you don’t deserve such beauty,
the freewheeling wind says: “You are part
of the sweetness. Enjoy your breakfast.”

Imagination is out sightseeing,
the willow lollygags in the sun,
the blue-eyed day, the quizzical robin,
the wolf, the deer—they’re all waiting for you
at the edge of field.