Wind sweeps the afternoon towards evening,
doors rattle in the house,
we, too, could be swept,
taken by time down months and years

We try to stitch ourselves to the moment,
hold ourselves in place that way –
be doing something, or feeling something,
but ultimately noticing:
if it were our work to invent ourselves,
we wouldn’t see the point of it

The Mind that holds us
has a grand laughter
that makes us feel at home,
secured in joy, in something
so much greater than ourselves
that we can laugh, too –
laugh and let go.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 17, 2023