There was the quote
I had to scribble down,
quickly, the pen faltering like a toddler’s dragging-mad footsteps.
And the wisdom,
shared in a tumble of tweets,
a paper chain across the universe.
And the poem that exploded the room,
or made the air leak out in a sigh.
There was the certain conviction that words matter.
And there were hands to receive, and offers of help.
There were people
who saw the door open a crack,
who pushed it wide
to allow others through.
And there was the tree dusted with purple
and a yellow hydrant kneeling underneath.
I could not bear to take its picture.
(Door image came from Sue Baller-Shepard, a new friend.
Check out her wonderful Spiritual Book Club site.)