As I wander through the woods, a light rain
begins. You were here once singing
to me of weeping.
But now the nuthatch darts
from branch to branch, and a dove
coos softly in the distance, where
is his mate, his love?
Circling the pond, a turtle boldly pokes his head
breaking the surface of the water
and I realize, it’s ok now
to believe we are made,
and to know
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2016, ancient skies
“When we love people, we give them hope.”