Within, fog settles
over the canyons and crevices of my mind,
speckles of doubt,
a question drifting,
quiet thunder gathering low.
They belong here,
as all of me…
part of my inner weather.

I wander through the shadows,
wading through those invisible streams,
feeling the path beneath my feet
as it carries me
through and within
these ever-changing skies.

Then,
a single yellow wildflower
reaches through the clouds.

A breath on the wind.
A soft glimmer in the mist.

An opening.

I kneel,
place my hands
upon the dew-drenched earth,
listening
for the softer voice within,
the gentle pull of the light,
the still water beneath the weather.

Simple miracles.
Sacred ordinary.
Gratitude.

A lone wildflower
crosses the path of my life,
shifting the fog inside,
clearing my heart-drenched skies.

I sit
at the shore
of my mountain lake within.

Breathing.
Here.