In the spring when the tide of renewal flows over me, I feel
re-embedded in wholeness. The sweet spirit of being-filled-from-within by
sky-grace-flowers
cleanses the drive from me. I have laid down the calendar
book, which was a metronome over a cliff.
Tonight thunderstorms loom and the sky greens in spring
heat. I hope for the fire that is brighter even than magnolia blossoms,
something to mark the path to stars and planets. A jagged walkway, sudden,
liminal, luminal, stark. Instead of parking, we wander in the city thrum
twilight. Even though there are no storms tonight, the promise of illumination
keeps me moving, hoping, breathing.
April 2012
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