I Hope You Busy Around A Bend

in the trail and stumble

into the warmth of a truthful

“I love you.”

And you look around, confused

by what just happened, what

kind of presence can just reappear

like green beneath thawing,

sun-heavy fields on a spring 

afternoon?

Maybe it will feel similar to entering

eternity for a few minutes, soaring

over houses, avoiding clouds

and treetops, but you're still here,

resurrected inside a body of

words you forgot were forgotten.

I hope it nearly knocks you over

to rediscover that neither you nor

the world is wounded beyond repair.