Her heart was made of liquid sunsets. —Virginia Woolf
Just a jaunt around our neighborhood,
no need to rush, no push to get our heart
rate up, so we amble around one corner
and the next, pass the schoolyard where
we stop for one photo, the clouds
accentuated by the sun now low in the sky,
a few last rays before it sinks into the peach-
kissed horizon. You take my hand,
and we enjoy the evening bird chorus
on our mellow stroll home, and I hold
onto these moments, stilling myself
into the beauty of something so simple
as two souls content in God’s world.
—C.L. Fisher, April 2021
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