But ...
nothing is "just".
Why the lingering at the threshold?
Go through.
It's simple.
One step at a time
and you are there--
as long as you don't look behind you,
you can do anything
you put your mind to.
I press my body
against the vast erection of tree
warm wind rustles leaves
like the whispering of a soul
the wordless language weaves
it's prayer
like lace against the sky
and I
feel the breath
the movement of the crown
nodding YES to the beyond.
Sitting at my desk
the typewriter hums
in readiness.
I insert fresh leaves of paper,
wait for the breeze
to stir elusive words
to form the image moving in the clouds,
to catch the life
that prays from deep set roots
to be realized.
A golden drop of sap
shimmers in the sun…
the piny essence
fragrant
like a poem.
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