Junction point
of your
head and heart

It was all you had to give

And you gave it anyway

Swiftly moving clouds modulate
the light coming to closed eyelids.

Today, with God's grace, I know
what it is to be my own
true north.

Clear sun on the bedroom wall,
Doves cooing secrets outside.

Here in the kitchen,
bright scent of orange oil
as it’s skin gives way.

I'll open just one today.

Once a place of crossing,
  on this sensuously and
precariously warm
February day
I have come to be still,
and to watch, and to listen.

Shadows of trees,
so immensely tall,
stay oddly motionless
under green river water,
even as the surface
moves and swirls
carrying itself ever onward.

Leaves and mud are newly wet;
walking is softer, soundless.

Below the path winding upwards,
melted ice sings again as water.

I drink in its sound, soul diving
heart first into perfect, liquid treasure.

grey white
sky colours
deepen
into being

*we are not forgotten
we are always loved