The Little Finger

The little finger is tracing animals.
She is tracing butterflies and dragonflies.
The little finger touches your lips.
And then she points to stars.
She comes from forever, and points.
To now as perfect wonder.
As eternal… kiss.

No one would ever believe her.
She never speaks a word.
Her tip traces a tree, and then a secret’s heart.
As your fiercely living eye follows her
(but she’s invisible)
right into heaven’s garden.

All the tiny fingers are together there.
Looking for all the world like children,
flowers, birds… the light…
ecstatic… on the waters.
Tracing lips, maps in stars…
like the moon as a girl,
pointing with her smile’s subtleties
directly to your eye.