Sometimes we read our future
sometimes it reads us

We find we have moved through the points of time
splashed across the seasons of our life
we have been
led
softly led
to be the spark
that we are
here
now

And yet
there is this memory of dance
the energy mother had so long ago
when we were young and bridled
at any reading of our intent

When father bent to tasks so dull
yet he bent to them
again and again
polished them with a hope
a love
only a father would give

And we
finding confinement within this
moved
on

Sometimes we read our future
sometimes it reads us

Fingering the lines of our being
that call forward to us with love
wrapped in everyday clothes
in everyday tasks.