We have the receipt of fern seed, we walk invisible.
                                 --Shakespeare, Henry IV, Pt. 1, II, i

        Carrying flames from the heart,
        the seed grows green in our palms
        only on St. John's Eve.

        Summer is pliant,
        and fades in the twilight
        choir loft that serves many birds
        and is a listening post
        for prayers.

        We are gifted
        with many lights. We see
        and are not seen; we
        answer pain's dim questions.


        Copyright © Ramón E. Martínez, 1999, 2009.  All Rights Reserved.