There is freedom in letting go, in surrender to the moments as they unfold, knowing and trusting there is a timetable beyond what we may understand.

This morning I felt the truth of tears as liquid love, the fullness, as though moisture was dew within me, drops of rain, flowing me to fluidity, a river to the sea.  When we feel the light within, prisms form, rainbows we cross along the way.

I was reminded of Stanley Kunitz’s wonderful poem, “The Snakes of September”.  He’s writing about summer and how he hears snakes in the shrubbery, sees shadows in the thickets.   In September, he thinks they may be gone but then –

In the deceptive balm

of noon, as if defiant of the curse

that spoiled another garden,

these two appear on show 

through a narrow slit 

in the dense green brocade

of a north-country spruce,

dangling head-down, entwined

in a brazen love-knot.

I put out my hand and stroke 

the fine dry grit of their skins.

After all,

we are partners on this land,

co-signers of a covenant.

At my touch the wild

braid of creation 

trembles.

And so, for now, the portal is open.

Circling

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