in memory, finding again
those images, that open
the heart, and holding
these close, embraced
in watch fullness.
Standing clear, in
sighting those threadings
that suture our seeing,
again and again:
miracles alight.
For those, focused —
in attention
and atunement,
doves murmur, in
B cadence with the sea…
that moment, in
memory, held fast
just now, just gone,
like all things,
crickets cry:
the same old
song — please:
don’t worry,
we all go —
that way.
— Tim Girvin