of the deep depths of science.
of the morning bird that calls out to her mate in the evening, shrill and beautiful against the dusky sky.
I believe that Death comes uncalled for and unmade for.
robbing beds of lovers and cribs rocked in grief.
i believe in the unrelenting poetry of life.
of promises never filled forgiven,
of all thing made anew when under clean sheets hung to dry out on the line in the midsummer sun.
of eyes closed, lashes filled with the motes of memory, drawing deep in sleep.
i believe in boken hearts & Newton & Einstein & Darwin & Louis Leaky,
in the darkest depth of black holes and in an earth not formed yesterday,
but in nanoseconds of a moment billions upon billions of years ago
in a collapsing clap off the shoulders of God.
I believe in the unrelenting poetry of life.
PS. this one may look innocent, however, she is on the hunt right now for easter eggs to devour before the boys get a chance to even look. it is her one, once a year fault. her brother however, who is often naughty, still has horrid gas from the chocolate covered almonds he ate earlier in the week. but that, for him, is par for the course.