Illuminate

Winter sun sets low these days

painting the steel blue water

in flames of gold.

I see a young woman on my walk

sitting at an old wooden desk on the damp sand,

writing in a big book as if the cold

means nothing to her fast-moving hand.

A white painted door stands propped up

at the edge of the windswept beach

as if waiting for the knock that might change the world.

In time, I come across a small brown wren

sitting upon a wall of stone,

its bright eyes turned towards the setting sun

and in that moment, I understood

some of the words the language of beauty

has been speaking all along.

This morning’s sunrise illuminating the buildings and mountains outside our windows after yesterdays snowfall (Vancouver, B.C.).