Letter in late summer

Dear —

I am thinking of you, on these cool mornings
as I walk, and on the sweltering days as I weed.
I am thinking of you as I write, wondering

what you are making of your days, of this time,
of the heart, how it stretches and too often feels
about to snap but then the smallest thing

— a sunflower's reach, a child calling, or just light
moving across an old wood floor — brings you back
from an edge you nearly crossed, and for a moment
all is well, and for another and another until

it is late and dark and you have tucked
into comfort and you are “breathing just
a little and calling it a life.”

From this quiet space,
I am planning for happiness
and thinking of you.

With love,
Drew