On the back porch. Moon rising…looks full as the clouds scrub the sky, gray sponges that light up when they separate me from the moonview. Wind breezes. Children chide inside the home I dreamed for them. They rest in banter after a long day of doing done. Did he really just say “chillax”? Is that a word?
Naked branches chatter, curious about Spring.
My heart, has become, a prayer flag.
I don’t know anyone that does not suffer. And that is beautiful.
For their heart is a prayer flag, and this life they live, is the wind they prayed for long before they came.