In the hidden mountain caves and low infertile bogs
You are in stretched out cotton clouds greeting rooster's crow, wrapped in little leaves and dew drops settled an inch above the earth
You are Redemption, gentle rivers' flow filling dry cracks, mighty white caps pushing forward mill wheel, making motion into use.
You are like an old grandfather clock, silently and wisely watching, a patient unanxious heirloom, always working.
You are the flash, the twinkle in the eye of one in love, shouting as you travel across the room to tell secrets to your beloved.
You are the darkness surrounding the intricate galaxies. You are in the still beauty of doldrums.
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