She gazed at the sky. Contentment, it takes away the emptiness. The blue exempts another otherness. Sound of birds sweeps the trees. Clouds leapt across the sky. The Mourning Dove cooing.
Remembering– when each object traced a trajectory back to part of a heart, and there it lingered and tore itself a home.
How to create beauty with this. The calamity of life sounding. I try to confide, be calm– operate with awareness, but everywhere is inaction. The Mourning Dove cooing, a sensation of peace so fleeting.
Impertinent impediment, where are you sustained?
Take these trappings, free me.
Give me wonder.