In the Quiet
for my dear friend - Janice
Whistling wings brush the trees
as the coo of doves comfort me.
Windswept grasses genuflect
our true connect.
Chatty crossbills sing nigh,
yet penstemons do not ring,
only the bluebird’s azure sigh
bears witness to my grief’s sing.
I can better hear
the heartbeat of the sun,
within the rays of silence,
chimeless as the first begun.
Was grace that brought
her to me,
and heartbroken as I may be,
love endures all wrought.
Beyond earthly measure
she gave without reserve
to every needful soul
called to care and to serve.
It is indeed
a more treasured world
for her
having been.
We’ll meet again
In the sunflower field
forever joyous
and healed.
MindyW. 6.25