This shimmering moment hangs in the air.
My breath clouds before me as a distant
dog barks and a tree is unloaded and dragged
up concrete steps. A creak, a shout.
The door slams. Silence.
This cold stillness, like an old Christmas card--
just a memory at a certain time, about some
out of the way place. The indigo sky
with tinfoil stars--so ordinary, so special.
Like woodsmoke, coming over the hill
with a lilting echo of a laugh as someone
walks into a house. The door slams. Gone.
Just my breath, in, out, in, out, as I walk up this last hill.
Snow like planned sequins lights the way. An Aurora
way off on the horizon forms an angel with open arms,
full of light, a beacon for new life born this day.
A bell tone full of spheres, expands me
as I near the top of the hill, at center in
the angel's wings, enfolded. Amen.
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