A tendril inward

To whisper rivulets of love

from your heart core,

through the back of your throat,

out into the world...

And to blink slowly, gently,

like a snowflake kissing

the surface of the planet

Is to swim, inspired, in

the swelling rise of Grace.

To touch your belly,

a soft graze of affection,

while the breath cooks in

that treasury of divine

Is to let go, to fall off

the cliff of knowing and clinging,

to be borne on the wings

of gratitude

To soar in an ancient

unborn wonder — the roots

and branches of the giant

vegetable, the tree, knows

this space well enough

To trust in the provision of

abundance.

So trust, my love.

Trust and choose well

where your roots grow,

what you whisper,

and do it now

when the soil is

freshly rained upon.