Reminders That I Am

A fern leaf separates pages in a book

An inscribed name in wet cement, I was here

Carved initials in an old forlorn tree trunk, you are not alone

A yellow bow tied to a branch, finding our pathway home



Circles run in opposite directions

Grains roll slowly between, following before they fall

A pinch turns empty, motion and inertia stop, waiting – listening

The space between the first turn and your voice draws closer, gaps begin to close

Hope falls lightly from above