The thought drifts slowly through my mind,
softly on silver wings,
Moving like a ghost through mist
on a cold, gray day,
Its gossamer tendrils entangle me,
wrap me in knowing
that I am connected,
that I am bound to this earth,
This Place of my being,
and all that happens to her,
happens to me,
and with the horror of this knowing—I gasp!
And with the joy of this knowing—
I fly.
~Kathie Adams Brown (March 21, 2014)