Unt(it)led

It is the whispering of the rain-soaked trees on a cloudy day

It is the remembered laughter of children playing 

Their imagination, untamed and limitless. 

It is not the destruction of a threatening fire, it is the light it provides

It is not closeness to death written on the wrinkles of old men's foreheads,

It is tales of wonder and the ever-changing map of their pasts.

It is the old window of a barn that lets the horses see the sky 

It is the cool touch of the wind brushing past our noses

Quick and unseen, but demanding 

to be heard, to be felt. 

And like the breeze, 

It can be calm and make flower petals dance

Or it can choose to blow great Oaks to the ground.

It is the mountains that stand in front of the sunset

Watching in awe of such an impossible beauty

Or enveloped in the shadows it carelessly leaves behind. 

It is in every smile, every laugh, every song 

It is nowhere, it is everywhere. 

It is love.