By dbanach - Posted on 28 September 2010




In the interlude between crisp fall breezes

The air rests warm and still

Amidst the tree trunks,

Suspended and suspending

Leaves clinging in wait

For the right moment

To tumble in the waning light.


Wait with me

In the grace of this


No longer fighting falling.

At the parabola’s peak,

Gravity suspended,

In this moment of



Breathe with the sighs of angels.

Cry with the tears of god.

Touch with your virgin fingers

The softer places of time.

Open the spaces between



Close your eyes to see.

Let go and hold

My hand.





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