thinking about the people, who float through life;
whom even the ground dares not touch
for fear of phasing their fragile flight.
Watching them—just watch
their endless grace
A movement of their hand, a turn of their body,
a dawn in the darkness that cups a crying face.
Once they waft into your life try to treat them well.
Don’t worry them with the weight of your wanting; they
Are far too busy, forgetting they too live