Yes

Yes to stone, to wood, to everything mossy and old.
Yes to doorways, yes to teal, yes to beautiful symmetry.
Yes to pumpkins, to November remnants, to offerings left at the door.
Yes to the something on the other side,
and to the one who opens the place to slide through.
Yes to knocking, or calling out, or beating down the door.
Yes to knowing what you want and what you need to release,
to the things that leave bruises and the hand that heals.
Yes to embarrassment, to miscommunication,
to finding a way back to plumb.
Yes to plumb and plums and plumes of smoke rising in the night.
Yes to the darkest day and the second bones grown on broken.
Yes to giving up and giving in, yes to believing in magic,
yes to signs, and spirits. Yes to the the many ways God shows up.
Yes to abandonment, yes to sitting on the lonely bench,
yes to knowing no and yes to no-ing the known.
Yes to yesterday, but not too much. Yes to this day,
and this year, yes to setting the slaves free.
Yes to the song in my ear, and to the songs I will soon hear.
Yes to the dinner coming, yes to everything that fills me up.
Yes to the yes and yes to maybe and yes to never again,
which always has a chance to be.