Everything hangs on love 
like the door on its hinge. 
Everything rests on love 
like the water strider 
on the pond ripples. 

Like a carpenter planing 
a plank of wood, 
love makes the rough way 
smooth. 

Like the sun at daybreak 
shining on the battlefield, 
love never gives up. 

The sky is most beautiful 
as it tackles the dark— 
when light bends, 
curving like the arc 
of red-tailed hawk’s wing. 
Daybreak or day’s end, 
the horizon pools 
with color oozing like fruit 
ripening on the branch. 
 
Though the shadow  
falls on the tree, 
when the shade 
lifts her wing, 
the leaf is still green, 
and tender, and ready 
to breathe, and 
bear light.