No Nostalgia for Shells
The soft blue swatch
that caught my eye
would not yield–
either
a tale of security
or the song of your
wild fortunes.
My questions could not penetrate
the folds of your recent past,
yet gratitude swept over me like light on ancient paths,
illuminating our common plot
and the Spirit’s gracious gifts —
the free
must have room to grow
and time for wings
to stretch.