This poem is wind
divine breath
caught in a whisper.
I do not see her
come or go
only experience
her ripe rhythm of deep embrace.
She touches me,
taps us on
the shoulder
and is gone,
a vale in the wind,
torn and blown
present yet far away
calls me to
my next horizon,
invites me to be
the lightness of a single breath blowing.
(poem by w. craig gilliam, 2016; photograph taken and copyright by Susan W. N. Ruach)
