Doors rarely seem to open
Even when I yank ones that I closed.
I am stuck in between.
Between endings and beginnings.
Between closed doors without open ones to go through.
Stuck in a purgatory.
What dross needs to be burned away?
Is today the day?
The start of something new
Or just a slow winding down?
The dance of snowflakes around me,
Flakes softly stuck to the windows above
As I wandered through the plants and orchids.
I took in the fragrance of vanilla,
Enjoyed the beauty I was encased in.
All the while tap, tap, tap went the snowflakes
On the glass.
As if to say, come outside.
Leaving the cocoon of the greenhouse
I was slowly blanketed by the snow,
From a distance, others hurried about.
But I was in a secret, quiet dialogue
With the snow and the trees.
I walked solo around the grounds,
Only accompanied by the trees
—Who were also witness to the snow—
And the crunch, crunch of snow underfoot.
Too soon the moment passed.
And I was back in reality
And among others.
Cool water in a small teacup on a hot day.
Trees swaying and leaves rustling in the wind.
Sound of cicadas in a mid-summer garden.
Waft of wisteria on the breeze under a pergola.
Velvety petals of lamb’s ear along the path.
Out I go
Wandering in spirit,
Putting one foot in front of the other.
I am not lost,
But I am not found.
Everyone exists somewhere but
How many belong anywhere?
My soul seeks
What I cannot seem to find.
Will it ever rest
Or will I perpetually be wandering?