soon I will need to face the wind howling outside rumbling like an invisible train between the houses here

harbinger of a new weather pattern moving in 

In my heart as well?

I know not only that there is a kind of expectation hovering there

Spinning carried away like a balloon released by a mourning child’s hand out past the clutching trees until it is free dark against the boiling clouds 

a speck in the eye of a loving God


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