After Rain

December grows thin

and after weeks

of unseasonable, upbeat,

sunshine

and dry air that makes

fingers rough and

lips scaly,

rain returned,

frozen fog

shrouded us,

and we dreamt through

the longest night of the year.

Whose hand reached for yours

in the silence of your dream?

What scent tickled

your imagination?

Did you soar to a new place,

or did you rest

the bosom of familiarity?

Was there space

in your dreaming

for the grace of mystery?

For the unspooling of

each silken day,

the invitation to offer:

your unguarded self,

your undivided attention ,

your undaunted imagination,

your passionate love

for life,

in this glorious

incarnate

being?

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3 thoughts on “After Rain

  1. The unspooling of each silken day reminds me of a tai chi posture–reeling silk. Perfect metaphor. You have the soul of a poet. Thanks for sharing it with us.

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