of a dog’s heart beat
a brown bird’s song
a bench in the sun like
a sigh to float on
a felt wing flap when
a dove grays along
a collection of mornings
untouched by doom
the quiet shrine
of an afternoon
the laughter of leaves
in a sylvan wind
a hug allowed from
beginning to end
to live in the ordinary
again—
let me dwell in the
small things of life
that muffle the touch
and sounds of strife.
