Unlocked.
What is your piece of sky like today?
Are your colors peeking through falling maple leaves?
Have you wondered how it would be if we danced?
Would it surprise you to find we had the same feeling about Sundays?
My sky is grey.
I see swirling maple and oak.
I think we would be a perfect fit.
In a surprising twist,
the sun pressed leaf patterns
onto my skin, so that the trees
would recognize a sister
of inferior design
bringing me into a world
where measurement is a myth,
awakening in me a freedom
of season and element.
So it is with a turn of mind and heart
far from worry and shame
I find a home in a valley of delight.
He has the strength
of a brittle leaf
held up, alone,
to face the sun
while everyone else
is asleep.
You were there,
between the leaves
and along the rays of sun
as they fell to the moss below.
I could hear our chatter in birdsong,
could feel you as the sun touched my face.
We have always been
so now, we are remembering.
The Word Rummager 