Motes

 

MOTES

 

Your words were like a Sunset –

A glorious repose –

A promising reminder

That blesses as it goes.

The Sun has other business –

The Earth must turn to truth –

But now each evening offers

A resonance of youth.

 

The Sunrise brings revival

Across the creosote.

The morning fosters muses

Who clear their airy throats

With notes of reminiscence

That we are not alone.

The handcarts of the universe

Will always bring us home.

 

(4 March 2021, Springville, Utah)