The sky was breathing today
in an intense blue light.
A dark stain was glowing far away.
Here it was calm,
The sun was shining gently,
human stories under the roofs
were playing out
their private dissonances.
Dead tree branches
were waiting to be cut
to give young shoots
more space to breathe.
Soon, a spring storm will come
and wash away the ***** snow,
filled with misunderstanding.
You know,
I still believe
in something beyond
that remembers the steady rhythm
each cut branch keeps
in the chaos of disturbing questions.
This presence
will let the honeysuckle bloom
another year,
in the color of ecru,
and the scent of summer evenings.