healing

I recently discovered a poem that I wrote last year during a time of healing...

Roads wind

round like lanes;

but blue grey lines

between purple and green.

Everything has a sheen

as the sun glispers off

the grasses.

It looks warm

like Spring when

warm is welcome.

I want to stop,

but must fly past

fields of frenzied calm,

viewing through windows

the world -

unknitting and loosening the top of my head

and I feel the heavy frown

I have carried unknowing

lifted,

wiped away

by beauty I am driving through

and on past.