There’s no such thing as magic - she assured me all the time.
But then - as I lay there in the cool damp morning grass….
And as the sun rose the color of fire…
And as these magical sprites opened their arms and danced and sang…
I wondered - maybe for the first time - if there might be a different ending….
a different dance and different song…
to those promises that once were made me.
With Promise
I watched and waited for that sun to rise over those mountains.
My head knows - it happens every morning.
My heart cried - but it 's never looked and felt quite like this.
I didn’t realize that I’ve been holding my breath.
In one giant exhale.
We begin again with promise.
Fields of Gold
Late season corn….
Early morning light.
A moment of magic.
The only words in my head were those of a song:
”You’ll remember me when the west wind moves upon the fields of barley.
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky when we walked in fields of gold.”