Mother of the night calls
and I step into the trees.
The cloak of my cares
slips, in a fall of silk
from my shoulders and
bare, I sink into the arms
of deep, warm water.
We whisper, as sisters do,
of hopes and change,
the extravagance
of the universe.
I confess the ache of
my longing for you,
and she reminds me
the journey is the ‘this’.
Sleep pulls me, protesting,
from her watery feet,
so she fills my hands
with blessings —
courage, clarity, love.
Pen's Ink 