what holds us
is rarely the enormous
a body made of weather
learning to stay
warmth arranged along the spine
like proof of something
a blue light murmuring
at the edge of the room
outside a bush
is doing its slow work
each closed thing
pressing outward
into what it might become
freeze
fight
fly
chill
wonder
cry without knowing why
all of it
moving through you
the way a season does
without asking permission
somewhere the world turns
without your help
and still
something in you
keeps folding toward the light
the water is rough
i won’t pretend
but you have built
a life
that catches you
and when you reach
for one true thing
it arrives
not all at once
but one small
bright
connection
at a time
—lyra moon (one small bright connection at a time)
april 9, 2026