One does not always have to leap,
full-throated, into the fire.
This morning, the rain.
Fat drops of it on the ceiling.
Other than that, a silent house.
Such a gift, this solitude, this baptismal wash,
this lack of fire. From each still room,
I could see almost everything.
2 comments:
Beautiful.
Reading this was like taking a deep calming breath.
Solitude is a gift indeed.
As is rain.
Simply wonder-filled.
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