There was no seal to be slit open.

My attention flipped over.

The scenes held in my hand.

The evening light crowned trees like a stamp.

Someone paid postage with beauty.

On one side color rose with the setting sun

and an angled glow skipped over

the folds in the fields.

Darkness tucked in for the night

under peaks of deeper greens and golds.

On the other side sparse words,

tight, lean, black ink spread apart

on white unlined space.

I am Love.

Thinking of you.