-for Heather, something I saw last week.
I am in the parking lot in an old car in need of too many
repairs. The dash lights flickered on the way. Turn off the ignition, gather
belongings, close the door.
I look down and whisper a prayer. It is something
indescribable not because of majesty, nor mystery—just because it is early and
I am tired.
I lift my eyes to the sky out of habit. Not looking for
anything in particular.
And there it is.
Her face,
on a cloud,
a bright outline
glorious,
set in relief
beside the dark gray.
The sun caught the gloom
just right
and the sky,
alive as a shoeless dancer,
leapt into my soul.
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