by Steve Passey
There is, in every flower planted by a man, something that he hopes will survive him. In every garden there is, in red and blue and yellow, every season. Every soul comes up from the earth, turns its face to the sun, and, blessed by the light, lives in the light. As long as it is silent and unseen it lives forever. I too, I too, have loved from far away and in secret places, a nothing in the shadow, a nothing in the shade, a watcher of the bright and beautiful things, from which the eternal is made.
Steve Passey is from Southern Alberta. He is the author of the collection Forty-Five Minutes of Unstoppable Rock (Tortoise books) and the novella Starseed (Seventh Terrace) and many other individual things.