The Return

Green grass field and green tress during day time

Silent for so long, the angel whispers again.
Her message comes through
birling basswood leaves: Dance!

She points to ripples streaming
to the lakeshore, reminds me
all boundaries are sand waiting
to be gentled into oneness.
Bereft, I ask where she’s been.

Waiting In the light between leaves,
the hush between waves
while you listened to monkeys
who insisted only their chattering mattered.

Held in her wings, I find the still-point
where the dance begins.


Poem by Sandra Kacher

Sandra Kacher comes to writing poetry after years of hearing about the inner lives of her hundreds of therapy clients. She brings an ear for music and a heart for beauty to poetry that she hopes shares the ways she is moved by nature, human life, and all the flotsam that catches her eye. She is shaped by intimations of mortality and most of her work bows to impermanence.