Friendly morning Moon rests over Thompson’s Lake
a beacon
between Earth and Heaven
sending light to her vision.
She blows at clouds hoping to scatter them
and failing that
offers her breath
as more clouds to sky
Forgetting insanity and madness
she lies on the earth
as lightness comes to the world
in this moment.
The cardinal’s morning song
adds counterpoint to wind chimes’ belling tones.
Standing, washed by wind
her grateful heart baths in the rising sun.
She says:
We used to fly like swallows
magic in and around our wings.
Earth is a kind womb and gentle grave,
who can say what lies between those seasons?
Gratitude and kindness make us powerful.
Can we remember this?
©photo and poem by caf