Late summer’s limpid sunlight blessings;
Light so pale it almost falls
As shadow in the yard.
A time of change.
The trees. Still. However high you look.
Look down: no blade of grass, as witness, stirs.
So too this page, its silence
Saying more than any words.
Much more than any book.
I want my words to point beyond themselves.
To free our eyes, unclothe our vision.
Amid this swirling world, we see
Each turning to the other, and in comfort, smile.
But now look past me love
To sea, to trees, to sun and sky.
No more breath for words.
Just breath for being here,
The rising tide of joy,
And all the world beyond.
Oct 24, 2025
Oct 24, 2025 at 2:30 AM UTC
Late summer’s limpid sunlight blessings;
Light so pale it almost falls
As shadow in the yard.
A time of change.
The trees. Still. However high you look.
Look down: no blade of grass, as witness, stirs.
So too this page, its silence
Saying more than any words.
Much more than any book.
I want my words to point beyond themselves.
To free our eyes, unclothe our vision.
Amid this swirling world, we see
Each turning to the other, and in comfort, smile.
But now look past me love
To sea, to trees, to sun and sky.
No more breath for words.
Just breath for being here,
The rising tide of joy,
And all the world beyond.
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