I wade in this water to find its source.

I heard my plate of tomatoes say to me
tonight,
Be here with me
And so I was.
Each salted slice,
red and green
juice and seeds,
garden goodness.
And I saw many worlds in that moment
on that plate.
The vegetable organ
of chambers and membranes.
My dad's country hands
whose mother's country hands
taught him to salt his tomatoes too.
And the "thank you" from my lips
travelling up to creator~provider,
knowing so clearly
what prayer was
in that open windowed space.

Worlds within worlds within worlds
Knowing my place
Being with it all,
in thanks.