on the lips of an invisible god
just in time to save us”
They were all saved by it,
She and the bird and the boy
and the little terra cotta pot
that held the marigold from summer.
It feels like jasmine on the night air,
silken heat through bone,
apricot rays of the late July sun,
the heartbeat in the cradle of a hug,
or a song.
It is the idea in the mud,
the call, the wag, the dollar,
the breeze, the smile, the light,
the braid down her back.
It is the little graces
that save us.
About the Poet:
Suzanne Dudley lives in New Hampshire with her husband and fluctuating numbers of their five children. She derives much inspiration from walking in the woods. Her poems have appeared in Bloodroot Literary Magazine…
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