Travels in a Land of Angels.
Falling from open palm to open palm,
one door opening to a house with two cats
one closing on a house by a lake
and music stitching time together,
the sigh and lift, the truth sung
into the soft, green evenings
of the second half of my life.
I go from car to plane to house to arms opening,
state to state, over water and over rock.
The cartwheel of the night sky comes
and goes and comes and then it's the next place,
the next arms set wide to catch me as I vector in,
like a seabird to the silvering of moonlight on the sea.
Such a strong wind, this life,
and so many tiny brightly colored fragments
streaming through it. I did not know until today
how much of it there is—
all this swirling inexhaustible light,
this bright confetti—love.
