All at once the gratitude falls from the sky
and reminds me of the fear residing in the rumble and sway.
Where do the birds find shelter?
Do they too feel gratitude?
Or are they themselves an expression of gratitude
in the way they take flight and survive each moment
in the simplicity of it all.
Grateful, I am for the line,
“One breath divides this world and the next.”
As if I can go there instantly.
I’d love to be in the world
where ancient boulders scatter the earth
as if a giant being allowed them to tumble
from a bucket of dreams.
Rather than carry the bucket,
the weight became light as air
and the dreams were released for all to share.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers