there is a freshness.
I relish this time when
the accumulation of wounds and baggage
A humming of sorts becomes the song over an any other cries.
A return to the aliveness I felt inside
when the naturalist spoke of white doves
visiting Saguaro cactus
in the Spring.
The thought and the immediate felt experience so exquisite, I wept.
A pause to sanctify the meditation
of buzzing bees,
and erosion that makes twinkling sand
and tumbled rock.
Aches vanish and stories can subside
with evolutionary weathering.
When my Earth body recognizes the soft skin of my lover
under hands and limbs,
I am no different than all unfoldings.
Under this brilliant Tucson sky I have returned to life on thousands of mornings.
Within a sacred basin, and amidst wild canyons,
precious life transforms
as the Great Sun continues to rise.