Terry said that his visitations would be obvious

Like the swallows this morning- looping over the field

Their outrageous joy at summer’s food- abundant in the air

And then there was the- Heron-

Huge wings making her landing in low

Onto the the dead branch

Where all the birds of spirit sit.

It’s too early for me to know how to sift

Through all the heart’s content

That his death has brought to my shore.

I am thankful for this quiet day-

For any ability I have gained

For staying with the moment

With the unknown – knowing- it contains.

Or as my mom loved to say- ” The Mystery”