Truce
Cinnamon sweeps in again,
almost unnoticed, on a rainy
day in May. A life well lived
in swirls. The whirlwinds of
lost journeys seep into my
hungry soul. All yours, for now,
all mine, forever. This truth
be told, be gentle in your rage
and cancel fate. We curl up
on our window sills, where air
smells of velvet and spices.
A glimmer of hope that will
colonize our heathen hearts
with stillness, grace and joy.
Britta Benson
Odds & Ends - Poetry Blog 