Just came, Not Chosen

7 a.m. sungold flings photons
from the top of the mountain across the river
yesterday’s snow clings to a wall of arbor vitae’s shadowgreen
just as Mom’s flour dusted the tools of her art upon the table
sifter, spatula, cups and spoons as if a painting of an arctic fable
her baked work emerges from an oven
still new in probed corners of recall
warm rays of sweet against this day’s elements

the twisted angularity of our apple tree spreads from hoop-house
to the spent purple plum, armature for the reach of Trumpet vine,
applewood backbone for skinny vine limbs and orange blossoms
which in summer float on green raft blowing reveille for the garden
here now frozen

suddenly
unexpected
a gift
a grace
just came
not
chosen

Jim Culleny
2/26/2022