Ebb and flow

The rain beckons me outside.

Water gathers at the edge of things.
So do I.

Warmth leans close,
fear answers first.
I stay still
and watch it fade.

Ebb.

The rain stops.
A bird tries the air.

The world exhales
into quiet possibility.
Not trust,
but the space it might need.

Flow.

The moment moves.
So do I.
In, out.
Holding, letting.

All that is
breathes itself into form,
then memory.

Ebb and flow.