Between the Paintbrush Clouds

 

Between the Paintbrush Clouds

(“But the king commanded…saying, ‘Deal gently with the young man Absalom for my sake.’” 2 Samuel 18:5)

Between the paintbrush clouds and peeks at the sky
we all move beneath the same sunshine.
Move lightly, for the sake of another;
step softly, for the songs of numbers of
countless birds remain unheard if we
wear nothing but our combat boots.

Between the hot-tipped arrows and the neighbor’s porch
we all wait beneath the no-mans land unplanned.
Bring coffee for the comfort,
and a chair just for conversation.
Bring children who laugh away the wounds
with their soap bubbles and endless questions.

Between the pale failures and occasional wins
we all regret what might have been.
See deeper, for the love of breath and light.
Hear weeping, the same as your own. The
circle where we dwell unwraps our faces,
deciphers our songs,
and reminds us we belong to each other.
Let it fly like dandelions away.