The light is dancing
on ten thousand spider webs in the grass
Ever widening hoops of golden thread.
A small insect dances
up and down
Up and down
in the scarce but generous light of autumn evening
My remembering is tied to
all of these things
So unknowably tidy and chaotic is my place
Amongst all of these things.
This fire warmth
These planets
This birdsong
... throaty and sweet in the announcement of her being.