Morning Wondering

These bones, tissues, muscles

Organs, thoughts and predictable

Ways of being

Are nothing

In this is everything.

So perhaps this nothing

In this moment

Is the decaying autumn leaf

And the blossoming of spring

If so

Then there is nothing to ever meet

Because nothing is ever apart

This morning this form greets the world

And the exchange takes place

In heart becoming heart beat.

Contributed by Lisa Hemmerich