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Gratefulness
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
We are living now our regrets and our failures, the ache of what we wish could be again,…
Philosophers shilly-shally, but it’s true: you are me; I am you. This dust, these rays,…
Take the thorny, inconvenient step. Create a mess outside your usual jurisdiction. Stop leaning on the…
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