Sometimes the branches reach down,
Almost touch what reaches up—
Empty space so thin
Still air hovers, draws a quiet breath,
Exhales so tenderly that water
Knows no ripples as it reflects the steady light.
Perhaps this is as close as Earth gets to peace,
Not quite touching what lies so near,
Never able to hold within our grasp,
Yet yearning is so clear….
Intimacy not a finger’s width away
But always slender space for grace.