Treasure

There’s the flock of birds over the field this morning
A hundred with dark wings, and then one with light,

And the three deer on the ridge over the river,
bellies soft and pale like the sky.

There’s the new moon approaching, stealthily blackening the night

And there’s the place in the river where the water rushes past, where the currents swirl and ice licks the edge of all the lichen covered rocks.

There’s the way the light comes through the big windows with the white curtains in the late afternoon

And there’s the wind through the boughs of the pine, moving, moving, always moving.

There’s the space where you used to live

And there’s the space where you live now.

There isn’t any difference really

In this great, big collection of things

What an amazing abundance of treasure
It has all turned out to be.

Thank you for listening,
Love,
Natasha

Photo by Natasha Herr