Ann Boaden 

little good things

In this patch of grass beside the road

dandelion heads are small moons;

their rusty stems lean into wind.

Beside them, new clover

freckles the rising grass.

Even here

in things so little

abundance is prodigal;

renewal claims

and reclaims us.

Even here

“Love has such wide arms.”

And in that still voice...

The sky cracked with lightning,

roared like a soul in pain;

graves split and spilled

chattering bones;

the Veil tore apart

like sucked breath,

and the people who had shouted

Hosannah! and then Crucify!

screamed for salvation.

This was the Death.

The Life came quietly

as dawn.

No one noticed.

Except one woman

in a dark garden growing rose

with new day

who could only whisper

Rabbi!

Ann Boaden (Ph. D., University of Chicago) lives, writes, and teaches college in Illinois.  Her work appears/is forthcoming in Another Chicago Magazine, Big Muddy, Blue Unicorn, Ginosko, litbreak (Editor's Pick), One Art, The Other Journal, Penwood Review, Persimmon Tree, South Dakota Review, Time of Singing, and Windhover, among others.