Table of the Chosen

Nibble on the toe of a radish
or a musty piece of bread
like they were a feast
and know that you are sitting
at the table of the chosen.

We care not
when laughter and loving company
thrives and expands with the seasons;
the abundance of so much awareness
of the gift we are given to have
each moment.

Walk the beach
and lick the salt from your lips
or look into the distance at the lighting
that brings the storm crashing next to the sea.
The foaming waters
cleanse you as you swim toward shore
where you will find
your true companion
waiting to take you home.

The sand is cool under your feet
and you will circle back to this edge
like a saint
hovering near the oak
strong and sure
of the way
the wind
will not break these branches
until it is too late to care.