Grace and Peace to you.
The geese traveling their distances above you,
the little swirls in the brook
making their way to the ocean
holding onto each other’s tails,
the green spikes pushing up into the light,
the breath rising through you into song,
the lifting unweight in you that leans
out across the tiny sea toward another person,
they are all saying the same thing:
come with me,
as all things gather
from where they have been sown.
Expect occasional flurries of longing,
with scattered moments of recognition.
One hundred percent chance of arrival.
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