I’m not feeling well today, so enjoying the sanctity of home, I dip into trees as they’re sliced into paper to anchor words in books. The living trees look into this room, approving this bound way to transform.

I peruse book shelves until one book calls and a page beckons. I look up and a hummingbird flutters by offering nectar to my heart.

I’m feeling peace around my brother’s passing on April 14.  As I talk to people, I learn more and more I’m not alone. We bond in the bands that are stretched and expanded, offering horizons beyond what we see or logically know.  We loosen what’s caught.  

Today, I’m drawn to open W.S. Merwin’s book, “Present Company”. I come to this poem.

To ______________

There is no reason

for me to keep counting

how long it has been

since you were here

alive one morning

as though I were 

letting out the string

of a kite one day at a time

over my finger

when there is no string

I sit with that, aware that the tsunami of tears has calmed.  Moisture fills my eyes and heart, the moistening connection that never severs, only lengthens and strengthens each breath, no strings attached.  

Rocks that form a turtle coming out of a rock-hard shell


Circling, the center holds


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