while the elements of the day
move from grace to grace,
sun touched trees suddenly
dripping in beauty, flocks of birds
landing and flying, singing and calling,
frogs incongruous as January spring
In and out of dream, emotion, memory,
we move in waves - our day is braided
with these and what we observe -
sometimes they blot each other out
but sometimes they swell together,
their chorus sending us over some edge
where we float like a feather on flood tide.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2022
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