Tuesday, April 17, 2018

18 toward the Omer

netzach shebtiferet

Long worms are out on the dark wet road, and I make some effort to step around them.
She wraps up. How does that land on your heart? she says. Where is my heart? I say,
and let the phone drop, and go in search of my heart, and find it, and it shares.
Back inside, the little dog named Autumn is asleep along the top of the back of the sofa.
I start to pet her then stop, worrying that I will knock her off. She does not say
Could you please just trust that I have a knack for balance, and can you hold with me
that a small tumble in pursuit of greater connection is something we both know how to survive,
and some wellnesses are too immense and infallible ever to be upset irrevocably by the likes of us?

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