View From My Window

Courageous Acts

A summer rain tells us gently
when it is time to go home.
The flowers do not open this time
of year.

The shaman tells us, "Each window opens
to another doorway, another
cross-dimensional shift will take place."

I hold onto
the shadow and gaze at a
moon, the moon is not ours.
The night is mine to remember;
I reflect upon it in solitude.