If you ask, I’ll say I don’t believe in signs.
The world is a jumble without reason, always,
We notice what we seek.
But, if you knew the way I treasured
Ferns and buffalo,
Constellations I cannot name,
Great songs on the radio,
Perfect timing of green lights on my commute,
And steaming tea before the world wakes,
You’d know my quest to convince myself
Everything will be okay.
Ask and listen.
When the ukulele plays before my son’s surgery,
I tell myself my brother is watching over,
Because who else will.
If you asked, if you could listen,
You would hold me so tight,
And I would know
Everything will be okay.