“I begin again with the smallest number.” Naomi Shibab Nye
In a drawer I found a handful of keys,
but could not remember which flowers
they were meant to open.
I kept as still as possible,
hoping to hear the answer
before the ice melted.
Not only in the amphitheater are there trials:
keep a strong heart and do not be distracted
if it should stop raining roses.
One morsel of bread,
and the dying prisoner
remembers his name.
What flood might a cupful of water unleash?
Winged creatures search in the absent grass
for treasure, a diligence rewarded by the sun.
Luisa A. Igloria