Breathing Dance

This morning I wake, gaze up,
elbows dug into my sides, palms spread wide,
questioning where my God is in this new crisis.
The gravity of it all bears down on what I carry,
pushing my arms along with my best-laid plans
into the unknowing space at the gate.
I breathe in the blue

and it takes my hands, takes the lead
among the trees bent by the wind,
fed by the sun.
We dance to the hum of the green.
I let the heaviness fall alongside the leaves.
I rise to the occasion—
my arms grow wings.