Everything Makes Sense

I have these walks, bathed in grace, where each step, each turn
Is a place of wonder.
On the path, however, taken a thousand times,
Blossoms an offered joy,
The tree with leaves pierced by the autumn sun
The edge of the small wall covered with grass and moss,
The thick water under the old rusty bridge
Everything makes sense,
Without uttering a word,
Not even a thought dares to tear
The fabric of the world.

©FJ August2024
Recueils / Participation/ Groupe