8/8/15 At Big Swing

Along the driveway, I hear the
hush of the dry summer grasses
and the sweet wavering
of the morning dove on the line.

My hand unlatches the wooden gate
into the garden, and I am greeted
by a whirring rush of feathered air,
as the quail drift back over the fence.

These sounds are so welcoming–
like instant utterances into my heart–
that all of me rises to meet them.
And I know, here I am held.

Even the pantry with that old familiar
smell is inexplicably affirming.
Yes, this is where I come from.
Yes, from all these lives.

It calls up in me some great sense
of knowing – a knowing that is never
questioned, never even thought about–
a complete belonging.

So that even now, even in this
uncertainty, I can feel
my welcomeness in this world.

I can feel how the dance
of so many things weaves
into my being,

which is our being,
which is everything,
which is home.

7/8/15 Landing in Baltimore

We are diving down through
endless layers of cloud –
the misty whites and pale
peaches against grays
and steely blues.

How vast is this world
of winds and waters.
And suddenly, my heart leaps,
exalts, as I see it there below –
a thick wash of green, so bright.

Yes, flourishing earth, yes.

The fingers of the lush land
and the lucent, enveloping water
contentedly curl around each other –

meeting, so welcome in
the others’ embrace,
as lovers’ fingers, who
know each other so well.

My body yearns and aches
for this wet, mergeful world
where the sky is thick
and all about everything breathes
with cloud and river.

Oh yes, this home, oh yes.
It is alive and well in me.