image by Jukepoksi at deviantArt.com
It's like a spirit
-Something-
pulled back a curtain,
momentarily,
in the starlit sky,
allowing me a glimpse,
a hint of vastness
and eternal mystery
so infinite,
that my mere mortal minuteness
was revealed, at once
insignificant yet intricately
woven into the cosmos.
My voice caught
in my throat
and there were
--there are--
no words,
only that domed sky
arcing above,
us below, like ants,
looking upwards,
at a portal to another plane,
the moon, purveyor of myth and mystery,
smiling her fat secret smile
as we contemplate
the heavens.
From a dark tree, startling,
an owl wings swiftly across the meadow,
the wind from her wingtips
against my face
like a prayer for all beings,
a benediction, a possibility,
a promise
that all will be well.
And when I next look up,
the portal has been closed.
"Not this time," Spirit whispers.
"There will be
another spring."
Good news, kids. The incision is mending perfectly and the biopsy results say: "atypical tumor with no sign of cancer". Whu-hoo! this is Wild Woman, boogeying. And very grateful.
