for Vivian Rose
Sometimes it happens like this:
it’s the kind of warm evening
when one feels lucky knowing
it could be cold, but instead
the skin feels at home in the air
and the dry scent of autumn leaves
is everywhere and the low glow
of starlight reaches down through
the night with just enough luster
to make out the shape of the person
you love emerging from darkness
and they are alive and running toward you,
and with no effort, the world
is fused with a wild gratefulness, and life
feels as easy as floating on your back
in a warm glassy sea. Sure tomorrow
there will be news of heists and tragic deaths
and outright lies and petty jabs, but
for a moment, the body knows nothing
but the gift of being carried by grace,
and these moments, they are everything
when all we can say is
thank you, thank you, thank you.