thanksgiving musings
to those who are part of who i am, to those who i love and hold, to those who allow me to see, to those who whose intensity i share, to those who allow me to be who i need to be, to all of you i know,
thank you.
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to those who are part of who i am, to those who i love and hold, to those who allow me to see, to those who whose intensity i share, to those who allow me to be who i need to be, to all of you i know,
thank you.
hidden in every sunrise over lake superior, in every second of the shifting colors, the light crash of morning waves, the touch of autumn-cool sand on the hands holding you up to watch, in the morning-sleep haze, hidden lay a depth of meaning only you can find and carry.
hidden, for those who search, is the breath of magic that says, “home,” that holds the comfort of close friends and the touch of a lover. it is still-time as warmth of place and mind and soul flood your body in advance of the sun’s heat. it is the past, the future, and now.
and it is everywhere. you may not find it in the same sunrise that another does, may not see it in a conversational smile in the south pole galley, may not see it in the mischievous eyes of your best friend, maybe not smell it in the first air of winter, or touch it in the soil at the base of a mountain, but it is out there, for you, somewhere.
and, if you hazard to look a little harder than most, the magic is out there, in great degree, everywhere.