Great Friend, we haven’t talked in so long and I can feel it in my core.
I’m a piece of rotting fruit without you, a decaying corpse without you,
A compost pile that isn’t composting into anything except brittle little bones.
But when we talk, when we swap stories and share laughs, but mostly
When I sit enamored by your beauty and breathe deep your bare-earth smells,
And when you allow me to nestle into you and just linger there, warmly,
I become new again. Free and New. Loveable – to myself and to others.
When I sit still and buckle my butt to the seat, I find that I’m flying –
Not just drifting – but quite in control of my direction.
When you speak to me I am somehow able to hear more completely
the words of others, my own included, with clarity and compassion.
When I see you dancing in the shadows of maple leaves, resting your
Magnificent self on the cloud-lined shelves between the sky and sea,
Or lifting off the earth on the wings of a dozen Canadian geese,
I am stilled. I am renewed by a sense of wholeness, of oneness with you,
Of how very precious these moments are.
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