Peppermint jostling

against my teeth:

sugar and spice,

a burning in my throat,

smoldering.

I close my eyes

and lean back.

The willow bark and ground

join,

becoming

the seat where I,

in bliss,

watch His sky.

If I wait,

when the breeze

is just right,

the clouds move.

For a fractured second

I see something great.

Maybe He wants to stay

hidden,

because I never

see Him long.

At least He gives me lots of peppermints,

gnarled trees,

soft grass,

and warm summer days

to pass the time

till His return.