Well, I won’t dwell on
the little unravellings at the edges —
backwash of doubts about an interaction,
nagging thoughts of having done it wrong —
Better to remember
the afternoon light
and the touch of hands
with the home-soaring
but ever unexpected joy
that flew like swallows
from the moment of connection
Better to notice
how deep and ultimately unerring
is the impulse
that stands behind me
ready to pour out
from my eyes and mouth and fingertips
when I am attentive,
when I give consent.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2013
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