when on a day I would think being outside could be no better—
when the world is vivid, picture perfect,
and it feels great to be alive at seventy something degrees.
And so as she blows over me every so often,
I look to the crisp blue sky,
into its depth,
and I wonder if she feels me—if she feels my yearning—
the hope that I let go of and let ride with her—
the wish I cast to the wind.
I wonder if she feels me.
With her gentle caress across my face,
her embrace blooms my heart and I am willing—
wanting to give myself to her.
For a moment, I shed my wisdom of true love
and leave myself open and exposed
to reel in feelings that I have not felt for a very long time.
I am astonished to feel my heart soften—despite its scars—
and remind me of feelings of the first time.
I can feel my stomach almost fill with butterflies.
I smile.
I am open, and I am vulnerable when she again blows over me,
and this time I close my eyes in prayer.
Casting a part of my life with her in one short breath, I utter,
"Trust me."
