Love is not exclusive.
love is addicting.
When i love the pretty poppies,
I also love the sweet sounding yellow finches.
And the clouds,
the sound of thunder,
the last silent thought that comes just before sleep,
the dreams i don’t remember,
the sound of my wife’s breathing,
the sweet boys playing across the street
the cherries in the frig.
On and on it goes.
everywhere i look i see god,
and feel love.