every night is different

this is

an evening that arrives slowly

in the closing

of the cherry blossoms

so pink then pale white

in the moonlight

this is an evening

that flutters in featherfuls

through the deep navy blue

cloud sky

this is an evening

of candles

each flickering of which

wishes into and beside itself

this is an evening

of painted shadows

and vanilla fingers

spreading across

this little reaching out world

that begs

and hopes in fervent whispered prayers

for you

to see

the goodness and the joy

in the very wondrous unfolding

that is your living selfness