In the soft damp morning I consider
(while turkeys bathe in dirt, and baby swallows
chitter when their parents swoop in)
how our whole life is just a shimmer,
just a snuggle, along the course of time

It has its arc, it has
what feel to us like struggles,
what seem to us like dramas,
complicated and drawn out

But they are just a trill, a flash,
something that comes round again,
resolves itself into the tone
of our sweet, precious essence,
triumph of a chord well played,
taste of iridescent light,
filigree of love within the song of Life.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 30, 2020