The June air, moist with longing,
is a double-edged knife.
Her memory slices me.
Where my soul’s blood trickles
a wild wind rushes in
to soothe and cool, to heal.

Time and nature temper pain.
While it is not removed,
raging river rapids
are channeled, brought into
joyful obedience.
My course altered, I see

The distance, the journey long.
And, through the lens of love,
I see hope, trust restored
between us. Wishes bloom
like wild strawberries, ripe
on the vine. Here are two

for you: I wish abundance,
showers of blessings full.
I’d grant you healing and
kaleidoscopic vision
that you might see the whole,
embrace both light and dark.