2.19.16 Abiding love

I have an abiding love
for the golden dried grasses
of midwinter, revealing themselves
with enough melt, enough rain

The faint glow of the sunset
Pink, orange, and then the
deep penetrating blue
quickening my breath
Corralling gladness onto the block

And then the tentative winds
sweeping into the neighborhood
once the earth has sufficiently
turned on its course

And high above, suspended
our enormous moon
These are the things that fill,
the things that sustain