Just On The Other Side of the Candle And The Ray

Watching dust motes in the sheen of sunlight
tells me there’s always a soft current wafting upward,
relentlessly ordering our random drifts here and there,
always here and there,
breathed updrafts toward love, divine breath
breathed by the two of us and the entire garden
beyond bound legends and good haircuts.

Published in – The Licking River Review