Image: Barbara Kautz
The Lion and the Sparrow
At the arc of dawn
in that blue and burning place
between what was
and what is yet to be
sits a lion.
With shoulders like mountains
and flames for eyes
the lion awaits morning
as if calling it into being.
So, too, awaits the sparrow
sitting on its plexus
where mane meets muscled back.
Her expectation
is a feathered patience,
soft
and hopeful
like the birth of a song.
And so unfolds an elusive wisdom,
tender like a sacrifice:
the unyielding ferocity
of such willing vulnerability.
Kathryn Yingst
9.17.22