The Same Unseen

Magic in the Mundane

Fluffy Japanese Maple leaves
bouncing and wiggling with the
slightest touch of some invisible
pulsing. A longing for
fresh cream in my coffee. Intricate
shadows of leaves on the pavement —
thin lines connecting abstract darkness,
rounded, pointing in every direction,
light glimmering round it, flickering
leaves moved by the same unseen drawing
my hand into magical shapes
symbolic of meaning that changes
according only to the one
who sees it.
An auburn tree
waving at me.

This morning I call him
the most wonderful man
in the universe. He accepts, 
as I am, he tells me, the 
wonderful personification of 
that universal her. I accept, too,
as certainly he is woven 
through every cell of me.