This Peace

22 September 2007, 11:12 AM

We slept
beneath a canopy of trees which,
according to a piece of paper,
belong to us. You and I both know
we cannot own a living thing. We only
hold it for a while and, if we
hold well, receive a gift in return
which cannot be quantified.

So we hold our Haven and each other;
lay beneath the double-vaulted ceiling
of leaf and sky; read stories and write
poetry as hours wander by and pause
to watch us linger in the space we know
we can never really own, but hope
we hold well, and receive in return,
this peace.