a quick flutter,
any stirring at all
that suggests change,
any slight hint that what is
is not the same as what will be.
Let there be a new dandelion today, O God,
or even the shadow of a thunderstorm on the horizon.
Rustle a bush and prompt a nervous rabbit to dash.
Poke a small cricket so that it jumps up.
Let a heron take sudden flight.
Change the scenery in any way, I pray,
do something to give me hope
that this suspended stillness
is not the end -- that
Death is not