Here
At the bend in the path where the oaks lean in,
I stopped for no reason I could name,
only that something in me had quieted
enough to notice.
A single leaf, not yet fallen,
trembled without wind.
What held it there, I wondered,
habit, or devotion?
The morning was in transition,
mist lingering in the low places,
sunlight testing the edges of things.
A song sparrow moved through the underbrush
each small step a kind of listening,
each pause a kind of prayer.
I thought of the many ways
a life can be spent,
the rushing, the tallying,
the long forgetting of breath,
and here, this unremarkable moment
offering itself without insistence:
making no demands of me,
just welcome embrace.
I stood in the quiet,
not wanting to ever leave.
I finally turned,
the path did not change,
but I carried something quieter now,
something that did not need to be named,
only followed
as one follows a faint birdsong
deeper into the trees,
trusting it will lead
exactly here.
Some years ago I was sitting in a wicker chair on a front porch. At the time I was a pipe smoker.
And to this day I enjoy iced tea…. Well, I was sitting on the chair on the porch. It was a late spring afternoon and the temperature was about seventy one point six degrees. The sky was only over cast enough to make the lowering sun less annoying yet letting it shine just enough. The aroma of Virginian and Burley tobacco embraced me and the iced tea cooled my throat just the right way.I heard the high-low song of a chickadee and there was a gentle breeze that carried no chill, only refreshment. No other ambient noise invaded the moment…. I felt a smile ….I thought about absolutely nothing else.
beautiful