Enfolded

I reach for your hand

while watching

our favorite movie,

or when we are choosing 

bananas in the produce

aisle of the grocery store,

sometimes as we listen

to the Sunday sermon,

or as we drive to a family visit, 

and often when we are out

walking our neighborhood—

in the good times and the bad,

in sickness and in health,

no matter where I am,

when my fingers are enfolded, 

within your strong hand,

like a flower closing in 

for a night’s sweet rest,

I am home.

—C.L. Fisher, February 2021

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