It is in the quite when it happens
the reasoning of being
examining the probabilities,
the proportions for evidence of purpose
My body is a filter
nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide
travel my airways, lungs
inhaling the sunrise, exhaling the night, the stars
the slivered moon
Is there more?
The surprise of Honeysuckle in February
says yes
the blue of blue skies at ten thousand feet
waves leaving a salt line on my thighs as I chase summer,
listening for laugh lines in every face I meet
says yes
The echo of a mother’s voice from her children’s lips
that’s more
Writing 