Grace and Peace to you.
A hawk glides through the air,
they wrap their arms around each other,
the air carries the bird steadfastly,
deftly opens and closes its hands,
sending her along her way.
Frozen soil holds the slender seed tightly,
not crushing it, just waiting
for the great gentling, when her tender
root hairs will caress its dark questions
and they will change each other into green.
The ocean flings its ribbons on the shore
in joy at the creatures it is given.
The meadow treasures its grasses,
the planet built as a nest bit by bit
by the pure energy of attraction.
And you, walking along the street on your way
to something clicking away in the future,
picking your way among the unkind words,
the deserts and disappearances,
suspect no more than a sleeping child
that the Source of all that is delights in you deeply,
whose desire for you is your own heartbeat,
in passion who wraps your flesh around you,
wanting you forever. Let any pleasant thing,
the smallest breath, be your valentine.
Copyright © Steve Garnaas-Holmes