Fleeting

Mist Held the Sun, Memory Held Love

---

To the light within you,

Morning fog settles softly
in a small clearing
at the forest’s edge.

Silky mist drifts,
cool and damp against my skin,
cradling the sun’s pale-yellow rays.

This delicate haze
tenderly holding the light
recalls my Great Aunt Vi’s
butter cookies:

pale-yellow butter
baked into velvety crumb,
melting slow on the tongue.

I never knew Aunt Vi in life,
yet I’ve always known her
through Grandmother’s stories.

how she and her sister, Aunt Lettie,
raised my grandmother
when times were hard.

When Grandmother spoke of them,
joy spilled from her:
eyes sparkling,
face alight with their memory.

That sparkle, that glow
taught me what true love looks like.

This morning, this love lives on in me:
a sweet memory,
a soft pressure behind my eyes,
a quiet inheritance
settling deep,
rippling outward.

Breathing slowly, evenly,
I close my eyes.
The mist envelops me,
drawing the memory close again.
Pure love shining through.

---

Dear One,
tell me of a time
when such a memory
floated back to you.

In recognition of the light within,

Your Friend