We went down the hill and voted, no one really in line, everyone was happy, almost everyone, and it was beautiful. The elder townspeople and volunteers helping the polling place, the American Flags outside in people’s yards, the birds singing, folks from all walks of life. Each moment so peaceful, as if to remind me, of all that happens in the rest of the world, this space is sacred, not one place in a moment, but an idea in time, of shared resources, coming together, to choose our futures, and prepare for better days. What do we choose when we’re voting, the hope that we have in our hearts to make the right decisions, our own that will remain. Hope belongs to no one, it’s held in our hearts as solemn as a vow. It’s with us from our first beginnings, each step along the way. And what is more to hope for, than a hope for peace, that can be renewed with every life on earth, flowers grow, seasons change, a bird in a forest, gentle as a dove, the silences enwrapped in circular motion, in every moment a promise of home.