Summer hasn’t quite yet started for me. Or rather, it’s started and moved in fits and bits. Not just heat settling and then dissipating. Events, too. Weddings. Retreats. Reunions. Helping family move. Planning the launch for the book of writings from the incarcerated women we work with. Acclimating the new rescue kitty (OK, she’s three but so t-i-n-y at 7 pounds she looks and feels like a kitty), reassuring the resident rescue dog. Oh, and did I mention writing . . . ?
By next week (my calendar assures me) I’ll ‘be on vacation.’ Meaning, I hope, writing more. Lots, in fact. But between now and then, let this small token suffice:
You pass through me
breeze and breath, sorrow and joy
the rippled lilt of the mirroring pond.
You grow in me
grafting roots, limbs, the whole
living tree of us reaching toward light.
You live in me
your words the bread of our communion
your laughter the wine that lifts my spirits.