ebb and flow

outside, the wind bellows,
as if it has some particular purpose,
and I recall that You are
on the other side of the map,
and yet when my thoughts
curl up, fetch their slippers,
and smoking jacket,
I remember that I am
the whole man that I am,
despite the lack
of You, warming me,
disarming me,
making me just so,
your ebb, a counter
to my breathing out,
a stop to my flow.

October 31, 2009, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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