Alone
The white of midday light whispers softly:
Look at the newborn colors in the hills,
Reds and golds, heirs of autumn’s cold passing
And winter’s still, gray vigilant waiting,
Silent, humble, strong, and eternal.
You are here and I am here, alive now.
Every leaf that has ever bloomed blooms now.
The breeze echoes the cries of dinosaurs.
My steps carry the weight of ancestors:
Farmers, traders, machinists, telephone men,
Pressing earthward with the present and the past.
I see through the eyes of forever, then.
Here is love, a ceremony of light.
Life calls, lives forever. There is no night.
Closing distances, what the soul just might.
Author: Sandy Lee Carlson
Photo: Dmitry Schemelev on Unsplash
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