Retreat, 2017 at Martin’s River
When it begins
with being able to call dinner a feast,
(Dinner is a pair
of hard-boiled eggs
and ten perfect raspberries,
eaten with my feet up,
and the door open and the light
resting easy and the air
all soft and salty and cool, full
of the nearness of you.)
it must be
that I am writing a love letter.
I wasn’t sure
until I blew a handful of soap suds
into the sunset and laughed by myself.
Alone, but not really… in fact,
not at all.
Kimberly M. King, RSCJ
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