How surface tension holds the weight of the world
I will never know.
A heart resides submerged,
the reflection's underside its ceiling
never fully exposed to light of day.
On the verge of drowning, the heart floats,
finds safety in leaving the body to ride
wind, trees, clouds and rain.
Freed from its moorings and misunderstandings,
the heart encounters a moss carpet, wild strawberries,
fir tree guardians,
drawing a mirage to guide it home.
~ Erin Waterman
My child arms open,
Find me among tall fir trees
Walking the stars home.