June was gentle with me. She saw me As a fragile jar of clay. I saw her As a tender and patient friend each day. She whispered “You can breathe again” So, I listened Took a deep breath in And awoke to a part of myself I hadn’t been seeing Or living within Oh, to see again. She handed me The morning page. I handed her My honest state. She wrote poetry In the sky. I read the words In the light. She repotted me— Carefully, Lifting my roots, She grabbed ahold of me, And carried me through— To new soil And A new home To rest my weary Soul. My roots are finding their grip Again. There is space To grow. She reminds me though, “Take it slow” No rush. Remember your fragility Remember your need Remember your Potter Remember your Gardner. Grab a stone— Remember June.