Moments That I Love The Most Poem by Linda Marie Van Tassell

These are the moments that I love the most
when the floating mist clothes the quiet morn
and curtains hang like a gossamer ghost
between the departed and dearly born.
A sip of silence, a hot cup of tea,
the inbetweenness of a season's soul.
No beginning, no end, just sky and me,
the smallest portion of the greater whole.

The pulse of the earth is quickening slow.
Soft shafts of light are filtered through the trees.
The ambiance shifts to a golden glow
and solitude whispers upon the breeze.
A warbler shakes the dew from off his wings.
Cardinals dress in their cathedral best.
A spiny orb spins with its silver strings.
How could I not feel beautifully blessed?

I am aware of the hope in my veins,
the uprooted fibers of distant stars,
the canonized grace of persistent rains
and the clouded pages of my memoirs.
I am born of breath, laced with light and dark,
caressed by the sun and swathed by the moon,
a weaver of words, the gentlest spark,
the dreaming conscience of blossom and boon.

These are the moments that I find myself
harvesting honey from every sorrow,
and I could care less for heaven itself
sparkling on the blade of tomorrow.
For, the moment is now; the now is here.
Fall through me sunlight and moonlight and rain
and unhood the shadows that domineer
when there is heartache and ribbons of pain.