believings
(an evening prayer)
Who would of thought that I would be able to stand here tonight on this hill and look up at the blue stars and down on the red leaves that have fallen and feel that I am not there among them? Standing on this hill with you, I am not far away anymore.
Behind us I believe the trees pass along with their branches the cold wind as it rushes up and over to the other side of the hill. It winds through the small town in the valley below, through the empty streets and around homes where lights are being turned off for the night. It flows over rivers and along highways dotted with cars going home. It moans as it weaves through the tall grasses in empty fields and farms, whispers in the cities as it turns corners among skyscrapers and gains speed, grows colder. Soon it will reach the sea and lose itself among the currents of air and water that have, at last, come home.
I have learned, standing on this hill as I hold you, to breathe slowly and mark the passing of seconds with the mists from our breaths as they rise, join and disappear. |
