Gifts

Gifts Red maple swings in the yard and azaleas bow, the finch sings to the music as grasses rustle. Sun beats the drum on the skin, the clouds move in a wave, ocean rolls in. A gull rides the waves as we sit on a log, smashed into shore, high tide. A fogbow appears, droplets in sun, yellow-white, a 360-degree arc. We wept at the gifts of the sky. © right now, Denise A White