She is obsessed with March
and rebellious hair,
flying cloud stallions
and scattered green mists:

this wind,
this second skin
we all share on a
day like today, and with
no questions—
we want to be each other

when this fizz of diamond wisdom,
our sheet of crisp knowing
romps the way we all should
though the wilds
of imagination,

and you can know it also in
the words of a friend
who sees the universe in you,
gives you back
to yourself
like an anointed gift

you always had,
but faith made it real

because friendship is the
wind's endless home—

sometimes a swim through
froths of stars,
sometimes ghost wings
breathing on water,
and sometimes our own
heart churning on a storm
that named itself
both Mother and Fear,
vanquished and conqueror:

One.

As we all are.

We just needed to hear it
from God one more time,

in the words of friend,
in the music that
is heard
without ears.

Patricia Joan Jones