Yesterday’s beauty is rarely enough for today,

like manna from heaven, it rots, decays,

disappears back, which is to say,

we do not know where, but look up, out,

beyond, and do the same again, everyday—

believe me, you are a starving soul,

lost as hell, hungry, but the universe

is a feast, prepared–

even on its worst days, it offers

up a prayer, beckons you to step

into the mystery: step through snow,

through rain, through wind, with arms

held out, eager to horde–

every bite,

every drip,

every mouth full.