Moment Quick and Light

Often,

the air will move

a certain way

bringing with it the scent

of memory or

hope,

and I will stand

utterly still for just

long enough to remember the words

that might have been spoken

and carried

on a wind with the same scent and texture

as this one.

Often,

the notes of a song

stop my heart 

so I can hear what it is telling me

about memory

and love that is gone, but

still so close I remember

the taste on my tongue.

Often, 

the things I can reach out and touch – 

the rain,

the rocks,

the deep, clay soil of my home

form an image

of earthy hiding places, 

safe places in among

the blackberry

the caves

and the only mountains above the world

I have ever known.

Rarely,

the three collide 

and I remember

clearly

it was never as beautiful

as I imagine.

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