Going low

I’ve often heard it said

that you are up high

and you sit on the clouds

to oversee the affairs

of mice and men

But it is on the days I go low

that I find you most near

Slipping into the space

between my chest and the floor

Hovering over the waterfalls

in my eyes

and making rainbows in the mist

When I have no words

to stitch up the jagged edges

you breathe into my lungs

until I exhale hope

Wonder and glory

mark many kinds of days

and some of them do feel like flying

but if I am honest

they more often mark the days

of lower still.