Looking back and looking forward at the same time left her suspended. Suspended in December.
Wrapped in winter's coming.
Not yet needing spring.
Left her able to rest in just the sense of season.
That Just Going that has found its perfect direction.
She hoped to learn this way that one thing becomes another without judgement.
Yet not without unspoken choice.
She felt close.
She had no bible.
She hung by an invisible thread.
There was no falling.
and a winter moon.