Both library and forest remind us
of wisdom’s silent holiness,
you whisper as we walk.
Soft snowflakes, stork’s delivery
of winter’s welcomed stillness,
settle onto my shoulders and hair.
The ocean lives in distant memory
offering echo of roaring breath
against sandbanks with endless grains.
I simply walk with you beneath the timeless trees.
Your joy is a gold-embossed invitation
and I tear it open as if I were a child.
There’s always something to see here,
you say, pointing toward the bramble.
You hold my chin softly – look down –
the deer left a mosaic of footprints
– look up – the birds are flying
toward the promise of new day.
When we return to the pine built cabin
my attention lands on the wood stove
where fire soon licks her kindling
releasing it into ash and smoke:
receive and let go, the heat rejoices.
It shape shifts blue black orange
and here in the wilderness
I shape shift in technicolor, too,