Upward,
dry currents lift.
Time again for monarchs’ return.
Riding autumnal air, they flirt
between grass heads and needle tips.

Seeking quiet,
I look for you—

Once silencing the effort,
you show your face-
everywhere.

My exhale weaves with yours,
warm braided through cool..
eyes closed,
skin registering breath of wind.

Abandoning the search,
I found you.
Life stripped the longing,
beat out illusion’s yearning-
wool kilim struck until the dust stopped rising,
clean,
lightened of the burden that never belonged..

Close to mind,
an ongoing remembering,
the weightless flight of butterflies
reclaims.
Orange and black paper wings.
Buoyant bodies feeding on flowers.
May we all be so lucky.
And,
in truth, We are.

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