The taste of whipped ricotta, jam, and lemon zest on bread baked hours before
The brilliance of the stars in their exuberance, fall leaves crunching beneath my feet
The rapture of a thick comforter as nights turn cold and snow threatens
The pre-dawn quiet when it is just the black dog and I navigating dark paths
The ecstasy of watching my children alight as their hands carve wood creations
The comfort of your voice, our joy, roots entwined 1,305 miles away
The marvel of remembering my animal body is also the ant and the distant sun
The wonder that joy should be an inheritance
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