Maybe

Maybe we dance from this elegant place

Discarding our vulnerable bodies

Like old work-clothes at the end of the day.

Maybe essence enters the air flying

Like monarchs in migration passed roses

And rivers older than wood wizards.

Maybe meaning and magic stand up from

The landscape like summer lightening.

And for one holy moment

All questions have answer, all journeys a home.

All living the roundness and warmth

Of a stone clutched tight in the hand.

Or maybe like four-year-olds we

Drop everything and simply run forward

Dazzled again!

Roberta de Kay