“Seedlings”
by Esther Bills
Rising first with leaves like hands folded in
Prayer, nursed by light the small leaves open wide
Like arms in worship, or hungry desire,
Or ecstatic bliss. Perhaps all. Do they
Know what they will become? Glorious,
Unimaginably glorious? While
They grow toward heaven, drinking deeper draughts
Of golden sunlight, transforming it to
Bright color and pattern and perfume,
Naturally, without effort or thought;
A living illumination, each one,
Each rising, thoughtless of itself in love,
Each because of Love becoming most itself.