Rain in the night, then, clear, and now I enjoy blue sky augmented with clouds moving the reins of love through my heart, feet, hands and chest.

I pulse with love like a bell struck with a gong.  The vibrations go on and on.  

I tremble at the fragility of the political situation, pause for guidance. Tears come, and knowing love trumps fear, I center myself in the mud I am, the moving clay, moist with tears of connection.

Liquid, the bearer of healing, tears.

Bees are buzzing in the rosemary, the universal symbol of remembrance.  My father died 51 years ago today. I center in the fluidity of tears.