“I have come that you might have life, and have it more abundantly.” Gospel of John
Nothing other, nothing less
Than red sunlight on seeded brushes
Of soft-white wheat–
Field of it by hillside-tipping field
And fold of land–
Will do.
Nothing less and nothing else
Than mottled blue of river glinting
Up to match the sky
It tracks up canyon walls
To blue-hazed cliffs
Will do.
Nothing fainter, nothing less
Than green and gritty white-lined surf,
The rolling walls of which
One must dive straight through arrow-like
Or be bludgeoned under,
Will do.
The green and blue and red of gold
Will take the gaze out visioning
For the bird of spirit colors.
Nothing other, nothing else
Will do.