Dear particles of stardust, train rumblings and the low drone churn of car exhaust as it moves back and forth on a night remarkably chilly and tasting of every clear mercury-autumn night for the last thousand years, Dear air that I breathe, I have for too long focused on the order and the line of things, the right of things, the rhyme of things, I have listened to good music, but ignored the secret quiet beating of my own heart, I have watched the work of others, the dance of others while silencing my own feet, taking my own desire to leap into the prism'd waters for granted, I have tempered my territory believing I am only just so capable, I have apologized for getting things wrong and for being too too human when really really I am an enchanted being with wings strong enough, legs swift enough, and heart soft enough to carry the combined weight of wings and wonder to 138 million miles above the whispered leaves of the curly willow outside my window, Dear bones I will push you into years of morning sun dappling the landscape of plains and prairie to rest a little, lean a little and carry the folding fragility of this moment, this moment bigger, truer - becoming golden.
