The quiet and stillness

of a peaceful Sunday morn,

Sitting, breathing, basking in the calm

No longer tired and worn.

The pains and hurts of the past,

She shed like an old worn coat

To make room for sweet newness

Joy rising in her throat.

The sweet spring air rests upon her tongue

The warm sun flushes her pale skin

As she says goodbye to a past

Holding on would only hurt again.

She can’t change what happened yesterday

Can’t wish for a different story

Her gaze is only toward the sun

As it peeks above the mountain’s glory.

~ Patti Crowley