the way the evening light
hits the cherry blossoms
the way the clouds shift
making shapes, broken and solemn
the way the wind passes through
the way the tropical palms sway
every time that you
drift by and opt to stay
rooted, muted, in a secluded
patch of green
the way the ancient crows seem
to know everything
they make their homes in pines
out of small lines
of straw
straw, that's what it's for
to make a home
*
the way the evening light
hits the weather vane on the asylum
the way that you wear silence
as a cloak, concealing
it pointed east
the crow took flight, fleeing
in that very direction
(a home to come back too)
*
the way the gates were opened
the gates to the secret garden
the way that life unfolds
the way the universe holds
onto you------ and keeps you upright
in restless times, when nothing is right
see, when you spend so much time alone
you notice the crow in his home
you notice each undertone
wandering and wondering
seeking refuge
in a secret refuge
(a thousand of them)
you notice things
the way things are
for just a moment in time
and everything is as it should be
everything is everything
Alhamdulillah
