in each heart
are known by scent.
A leaf turns
in the wind,
on one tree it rattles -
on another it does not.
A kicked stone
tumbles along its path,
one bounces left
another right.
Sometimes I would
like to know - with my mind -
with my reasoning self
what the differences are
between each person.
If one is true,
if another is simple,
another is an enemy.
Mostly
it is something
that my inside scent
just picks up.
In my ordered world
this is a gift;
in the kingdom of grace
I must lay it aside.
The path across the lake
shifts with each gust of wind.
Sometimes it is hidden all together.
We are still expected
to travel across the ice.
_____
Peace,
Tom +
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