Present Spirit

I look out through the rain to see the way that things are here, to feel the exclamation of their presence - each leaf, each cell, comprised of an intelligence that fractal-spirals deep, the more I look This tree, still young by estimation of others, between whom it rises - the aspiration of its yearly growth, the buds that punctuate its branch tips This tree, though one of many others, can be enough to show me present Spirit, of which everything is made, in which everything exists. ©Wendy Mulhern March 23, 2020