When days sit wild outside my door
and I am longing for the rush of melting snow.
the smell of wet earth
soft beneath my feet.
We bound out the door,
sunshine gleams in my hair.
Furry paws stepping carelessly on path, rock, twig, mud...
I am wild with delight.
Fresh air fills my lungs,
fills my soul.
I stop every so often to look up.
I feel ,
I take it all in.
And every so often I see the universe in the small things.
A decaying leaf,
constellations mapped out with twigs on the forest floor,
starlight smattered across tree bark with moss + lichen.
These are good days.
These are holy days.
I am whole.