Holy those colors in rain 
after drought, a puddled vow,
iris damp and aching.

Holy the indigo aura
that casts doubt on a landscape’s
verity. Fog or foam, snow 
caps or sea? 

Holy the difference between 
solid and liquid – this thin: a
cloud thrums, only temporarily
pregnant. 

Holy how time morphs 
between shores,
how when suspended
in ice, petals burn to touch.

Holy their will to wither,
unholy their right to lie.

Holy to be mummified.

Holy atmosphere of glass,
shattered by the unjaded.

Holy temple on the beach,
which the tsunami passed.

Holy Hanuman, monkey-headed
deity turning winds in his hands.
Holy statue, draped in marigolds, 
Holy stars shrill in the sky.
Holy the potato 
hauled out of the soil.
Holy the hairthin seed
of the potato plant.

Holy the volcano, and 
the ones spared
from the volcano, 
and the volcano’s fertile sand.