ISSUE 2
 

Bethany Jarmul

​

Autumn Meditation

​

after Mary Oliver

 

I.

 

The earth’s tilted

   spin stirs the trees.

     They sway, arms

 

lifted in praise.

   Swirled in holy

     invisible vapor.

 

Oak, maple, & sycamore

   trees drop papery

     doubloons from their

 

fingertips until

   the grassy ground

     is glorified in gold.

 

II.

 

I barter with my toddler,

   paying eleven leaf-coins

     for seven seashell shards.

 

Perhaps, Mother Earth

   herself is a customer

     of the Creator, exchanging one

 

season for another, offering

   six sunny days for two

     tornadoes.

 

But no, surely only

   humans see glory

     and think transaction.