I am meant to be here, right now,
exhaling to the sound of a cello and piano.
I am meant to hold a dog’s head as she rests in the sun,
scratching under her chin while she falls asleep in my hand.
To wear a knitted scarf of autumn, golds, greens, reds and purple.
To lose myself in a color or a sound,
a feeling of overwhelming emotion and peace.
I am the cello, the note on the page as it jumps into my skin
and weaves its way to the very core.
My hand must move, must write, must paint. I am young again.
I am alive, as I have always been, nudged by the beauty of detail,
and the detail of the beautiful.