She no longer visits in my dreams but waits by the bed for me to awaken.
First we tend to the chickens.
They are grateful and noisy, like cluttering hearts.
Then we fill feeders for the wild birds who watch from a distance.
She enjoys service to all things, stopping often to admire even a single clover.
She teaches me that the solution is inherent.
We practice to remember what is.
Names matter, she says, but not the way you think.
I point out the cardinal who waits in the honeysuckle.
To watch is to be attentive and takes longer than one thinks.
We clear the patio of a few leaves.
Go inside to make coffee.
The others sleep as the sun rises.
We lighten the coffee with almond milk and carry it out front.
Miles light up beneath the feet of those who are loved.
Who is loved is not a stranger unto God.
The maple tree blesses us as we walk slowly away toward the pond.
The hawkweed and sunflowers bless us.
Who merits the teaching goes wordless except - as now - as directed.