The cloud shelf drifts toward what
still seems possible and the trees throw
up their arms wanting to follow and the
Brazilian singer in the iPod is pleading with
me to give up all that drags my heart. Now
the sparrows out of nowhere dart in all
directions like the tail of a sparkler set
off in the beginning. And the singer a
continent away sings. I don’t understand
a word but feel him like a brother, like
a voice wanting me to wake, like a secret
spilling from the lips of a forgotten god.
Oh, we’ve made it to another fall. The
wind swirls in and out of all my regrets.
We are alive. We are alive. We are alive.
A Question to Walk With: Describe what trait most enables you to endure.