NARROW PATH

and I braid my hair again.
not with shaky hands, but calm.
weaving locked in place.

a love that passes knowledge.
arwyn tucks her head into my shoulder.
a stranger laying hands,
the sound of a new mother's prayer tongue.

a love as strong as death.
liz tells me to choose a candle,
"it has to smell like hope."
annabelle picked that one too.

a love that casts out fear.
calling just to check in.
coming up to see if my light is on.
a beacon in franklin, a beacon in kremmling.
you're welcome up here anytime.

it's the smell of prophecy.
into you into me.
we write the rest.

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