the breeze hushes my anxious soul
on a night the bright moon wanes from full,
but still so fat and jolly there;
a smile forms as I breathe the air
that moves regardless of my presence;
it rushes back and forth
through yon leaves of oak and beech, her voice I do adore.
this April I know I have stepped into a bright new day,
but in the May Dell as I sit on steps I did not make,
and feel the grace of women past, I cannot help but ache.
as I gaze out over virgin trees, once so very small,
I realize with a start that they have not yet learned to fall
and the brook that once was bubbling, now half empty, I can see
that she embraces change with no word of animosity
and the grass that now lies buried under concrete and red brick
says nothing of a bitter sort, it simply moves on quick.
perhaps there is a lesson here that I ought to surely learn:
to live within this world is to lean into the steady turn
of time, of love, of birth and death, of cycles all around,
anointed with the blessing of a beating heart that pounds.
