Everywhere I look I see you,
I see us. This fragile hand,
this blue pen, this yellow pad.
These fingers gently folded,
Embracing the eagerness of
your movements across the page.
This tender paper accepting
All we write. These words that
rise up and lay down, so simple.
You are what I feel. This beating heart,
this circling breath, this wide sphere of
silence that enfolds us. Your soft sigh.
The day waits. It pours out of us whole
and clear, unending. How kind you are.
Kindness like flowers falling everywhere.
By Deborah J. Brasket, “Morning Prayer”
Painting by Odilon Redon