>When

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When butter melts into the toast
When a robin juts its chest out
When a five year old dimple speaks
When a classic guitar introduces “Blackbird”
When I hear Barbara’s voice on the end of the line
This is when the dust in the pan is forgotten
This is when the tides of life hush those of death
When the sound of machines are put into the closet
When outside the stars wink through the oaks veins
When silence is remembered and it shuts my mouth
When frost filled air settles on my burning eyes
When being still invites knowing
This is when the length of days is measured
Not in coffee spoons but momentary trances
and deep breaths of God
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