I bring you in my heart
doors slam like crashing waves
one after another
to keep you safe, to keep you well from the storm—
A sweet cottage, nestled in the mountains
gentle hills, roaring fire
tea whistling—a prompt to come closer…
I grasp my fingers around the warm cup and drink hard
My eyes meet yours: you sit at the edge of the table,
back angled toward the window, away from center
stiff, your untouched tea grows cold—
Then, the first swallows sing
Spring opens to the meadow lake,
early frost takes root in morning sun,
but only for a season—
Song brings crocus, snowdrop, daffodil to the soil
Stone floor beneath our feet turns dirt—
the land drums, the magna flow swirls in earth’s core
bones bright and strong (skeletal music)
Spark of life, I take your hand:
We dance our way back home
©Rebecca Cavender