I am clearing a space
here, where the trees stand back.I am making a circle so openthe moon will fall in loveand stroke these grasses with her silver.
I am setting stones in the four directions,stones that have called my name,from mountaintops and riverbeds, canyons and mesasHere, I will stand with my hands empty,mind gaping at the moon.
I know there is another way to live.When I find it, the angelswill cry out in rapture,each cell of my bodywill be a rose, a star.
If something seized my life tonight,if a sudden wind swept through me,changing everything,I would not resist.I am ready for whatever comes.
But I think it will besomething small, an animalpadding out of the shadows,or a word spoken so softlyI hear it inside.
It is dark out here, and cold.The moon is stone.I am alone with my longing.Nothing is happeningbut the next breath, and the next.Morgan Farley