Only This

There is only this:

The breath of the dog on the bed and the breath of the dog in the living room,

the settling of cats,

the scrambling of the squirrel along the deck’s railing—

he, too, forages for seed and meaning.

There is this, too: the flow of the river,

the crow on the cooked branch,

the chiming of pipes in the wind,

the waves of the wind,

the insistence of the wind that we be more than we are,

that we are more than we believe,

that now is the god we seek;

we, poised and ready to breathe in the holy, the fact there is only this,

and breathe out the yes that allows the now,

and the love of now,

to marry. 

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4 thoughts on “Only This

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