so close; the arc of trees and stone
nest into you,
holding the walls of your smaller body
all the while, cradling the sky
shadow and light flower in a radius of hope
while tiny doorways
cause one to bow
to the quiet gathering of soul.
a chapel in a corn field,
a pearl in the open palm of believing,
a small knot hole in an ancient doorway.
who can resist knelling to the passage of time?
one candle shimmering
a reminder that every word spoken lasts forever, every flower
a chance to gather
in the quickening light.