Maybe it's the sun's last sweep over leaves in the afternoon.
Maybe it's the wintering of our Sweet Sadie.
Maybe it's the many more gray hairs on my head.
I'm not sure why but I believe all things go back to gold eventually.
Then and only then, when we can't see with our eyes or hear with our ears or touch with our hands will we understand the times we spent acting with love, out of compassion, only with heart was not time at all.
It was above earth, over habits, in the will of hummingbirds
We won't stop at the beginning of the dark tunnel,
we will go through and through and through the sun, the mind, the Holy Spirit until
Everything is gold again and hours are not spent but slept upon
in dreamy realms of understanding.
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