The wind that blows from evermore
Won’t move the cord they have and share;
The golden harvest in its time
Will come, in weather foul and fair —

That wind may gently brush their skins,
Or leave them raw with blisters –
But nothing moves the bond that is
The love between
Two sisters

If time would stop in golden form,
Then all the love this hour
Could be beheld for evermore,
In all its sacred power.

But nothing earthly will remain,
For this is our estate:
To love the moments as they come
And otherwise,
Just wait

for there is wonder to be found
beyond the paths of everyday;
in silence and in friendship, and
the little moments by the way

in having others by our side, who
know the stances of our hearts;
the phases of the silent day
seen eyes full round,
and shared with
counterparts

she ticks and ties in daily life,
and checks each box the way she should;
she follows where the herd may lead,
in search of someplace safe, and good

her voice is rarely raised, because
she knows “this too, will surely pass –“;
but finds the promised hope she seeks
in flowers in the simple-grass.

now spring, of course, it comes and goes,
and so do seasons of her life;
the bread that she must earn each day,
the butter scraped from off the knife —

the ugliness of tattered things,
she must escape the gray morass,
and does so; quiet on the lawn
mid flowers in the simple-grass.

    for beauty grows, uncalled, in desolation –
    and joy is meant for our heart’s consolation