The way an overcast sky can find itself mixed in a straight shot of sunlight is enough to remind me that I am only as alive as I am present to the earth’s gestures.
Within the blink of this month’s eye, spring reminded me that the trail behind my house would go from razor-white and bare to lush and stocked-green. It warned me that I would find myself deep in the groove and style of summer — habitually risking the beauty of winter’s wisdom. Spring told me to be cautious with the motion of time; it asked that I not miss the moment when the trees create warm-weathered shadows instead of charcoal-chilled lines…
the day turned over to summer that afternoon,
and the pond came alive again.
sunroof slides, concrete time
and raindrops buried deep and between.
so let me own our patience
and you can streamline our thoughts
from midday to midnight.
This piece is less about seasons and more about instances of the mind. The ability to pick up on the simple & deep movements of this world is a gift I am learning to grow within myself; at times, I need to silence my need for a path or a way and, instead, take note of the every day minutiae that exists all around me.
The fine points of this world are what keep the seasons of our heart and mind moving forward, regardless of the weather they bring. Details are life’s enduring miracles.
“Don’t quit before the miracle.” -Anne Lamott