dear drops of sea, snowflakes in the storm,
stars that keep their small bright promises,
leaves on every tree that ever learned to breathe,
beautiful hearts that ponder and feel like mine,

may i come each night and fold this letter to the wind?
may i send a question on a cool fall breath
and listen for an answer that has walked the mesa home?
may my confessions unbutton themselves and spin
into little colorful currents that the sky remembers?

i will offer what is raw and quiet,
a handful of small luminous truths...
the ache, the gratitude, the soft insistence to be seen.
may those threads meet another’s thread and warm,
so that we learn the shape of belonging by touch.

oh life, if you will walk with me,
let us go slowly, handlight to handlight,
counting the ordinary miracles along the road:
a moon that keeps its patient watch,
a wind that carries stories like seeds,
a heart that keeps returning to wonder.

and if the mesa answers, let it answer without hurry...
i will wait in the hush of my breath,
write this letter again tomorrow,
and tomorrow after that,
until the sky knows my name by sound.