Voices
My sister's voice,
on a silver thread
of wire and air,
hovers around me
and is transformed.
And the gray outside my house,
the chairs and tv, are gone,
and time is gone.
Her words are indiscernible,
the words that cross the plains
from her car as she waits for children
in a distant time zone, beneath a snowy peak.
So dear a connection
requires this momentary madness
where a heart is so amazed
and filled with gratitude
for the mysteries that bring love on wires and air,
that the words lose their meaning
and pierce the gray as music.
Catherine Wilson
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As I age, beauty unexpectedly distills out of moments where I'd not expected transcendence.
I may be rung like a bell during a walk to the curb to gather the newspaper before the sun is up, or in the middle of a phone conversation with a kid-sister.
The little things, the daily turnings, are somehow more precious.
In literature, it's Scrooge's awakening to life's joys and possibilities after his encounter with death - that carries a bit of my sense about this._______________________________________________________________
