Somewhere in between the printed words
I find myself in the velvet place
where secrets are imparted
as quietly as dew lifting

And the awareness
spreads like color
across sun-brightened fields
and joy —
like the spring trilling
of many tiny birds

So these are the promises
and this is how they are fulfilled —
in the soft silence
of becoming new.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 9, 2015