A thank you for a friend

I hope you live to be 96 years old. The tennis balls on your walker will be flourescently fresh Everytime the nephews grand kids changes them out.

For me, my life, I hope I'm in the end of summer. My orbit, my axis just beginning to tilt away from the sun. Welcoming the fall. And perfectly so, there you are. 

I needed you today. 

My head was spinning with anger. Introspectively I know it's my choice to feel this way. Whatever peripheral items ignite on my horizon, don't have to become a bonfire inside me. I decide what is my circle and where it's center is. As I  shift, as I'm shifting, right there lands the reddist leaf.

She speaks of digging up earth. Hands in soil. The cathartic act of planting. An exercise in hope. Faith. Awake in process. 

A refreshing swig of life.

It made me pause.

And I found my breath. I found my silent space between the trees.

So, 

Thank you, 

For today.