Chris at 66

She holds herself close. Her limbs

interweave to form a safe nest

of ankles and wrists, with

a solid embankment of knees.

She stretches her arms

into the actual shape of her body

with the delight of a child

who wakes each morning

amazed at the joy

of her own trusted touch: arm,

ankle, calf, fingertip, wrist.

She holds herself close.

 

Above the safe nest of her body

she holds her gaze steady, sees

into the distance as far as she can.

Far beyond the confines of this nest

this flower of only a moment,

she sees the universe, vast

and unknown. And she trusts it,

for better or worse,

as she trusts her own body.