Inside

If we plunge deep, below the rocks
and the worms to the loamy
richness of soil, or through the rings
of the oak to its hard, dark core.
If we consider the belly of the sparrow,
singing from the maple crown,
or the seeds of the melon,
the flesh of a yam—
Down, beneath the skin and the crust,
the scales, the shells, we find
a warmness, a wholeness, a goodness
that’s us.