Beyond the chair
the window
the tree outside
and past that the field
and further still a hill sheltered by trees.
The one who lives on the hill dwells in fog,
in rain, snow, sun, fallen leaves
and from these things
she gathers to herself her own self
the essence of her particular thoughts and sentences.
Her life.
And with this life she opens to sky,
clouds, air and sun until
her spirit flies into space, freedom without barriers.
Until she clearly and plainly hears
what she has to say to heaven
©photo and poem by caf