what is...
what is green?
the color of growing
what is laughter?
the sound of play
what is seashell pink?
the dreams of the sun setting come to life
what is love?
for some the real thing that matters
what is next?
whatever comes that one acknowledges
I catalogue my lovers for the day
the evergreen sentinels. their forest feathers; the frame of a salmonberry bush with new leaf buds not yet burst, a slate grey sky, the statue of Quan Yin by the fishless pond, and a wind that envelopes all of me on the back stoop
Something though is missing, yet something is still near enough to sense for what it is unseen. Seeing need not be part of believing. For me.
I cannot see the sea but I know it is there waiting for my next visit.
I cannot see the wind but I know it to be in my lungs on every inbreath.
I cannot see my god but I know god to be at play in the garden where I dwell.
Leaving gifts for me on paths I've yet to walk.
