We touch one another
with defter fingers
at night.
Rain sounds different,
its steady falling
a remembered wisdom.
What if the dark waters
waiting to carry us home
slept inside every one of us?
We were loved
before stars existed.
We are older than light.
Posted by kind permission of Francine Marie Tolf.
From Rain, Lilies, Luck © 2010 North Star Press of St. Cloud, Minnesota
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