(It probably helps to be looking over a burning candle, out an open window, into a forest, on a drizzly Monday morning, with a hound dog sleeping next to you, but these words came to me this morning.)

The Choir

Occasionally I hear the ever-present, surrounding choir.

It sings while it dances, and its words are many versions of “I love you.”

Sometimes I can’t tell if I am singing along or if I am supposed to simply listen. I think it’s calling me to join in.

It hums, “You are enough. You have enough.” It shushes me when I protest.