He finds me when I am not looking,
the soft footstep at the threshold of my senses
an embrace of apple blossoms humming with bees,
murmuring all languages that have ever been spoken
Oh quickened tongue made of light and earth,
voice of star and root, wave and leaf
He comes to me when I am not seeing,
the honey glow of light from behind the door
Here is the expectant coil of green beneath the snow,
beneath the burn, beneath the stone
Here is warm and sun on skin again after night,
after grief, after sorrow.
By an Anonymous poet as featured by Maggi Dawn by way of The Wicker Chronicles in 2006.
Photographs courtesy of Google Images.
