I wrote this after reading Mary Oliver’s poem, “Of Love.”
It’s a process repeated everywhere you look:
the way the beech tree catches and holds the wind in her hair,
the way the meadow grasses gather around the tentative feet of the fox,
the way the hands of the clay hold and guide the flow of waters.
What is attention, but a kind of loving?
Living in awareness is a constant tumble into loves.
The way your eyes twinkle when you tell a story.
The way your listening hands reach outward.
The way a new thought is born in your eyes.
The hearty abandon of your laughter,
the caress of your voice,
the shine that surrounds you.
1. The way a tenor line can turn a song from sweet to sublime.
2. The lessons we are here to learn, even when they are tough. I am finding that I need to step back from trying to protect my children from the pains and problems of life, so they are more free to learn from the things that approach them. This is hard, hard work, and it is a lesson of my own.
3. The buffy fluff of that mockingbird hunched out there in the brambles.
4. The sense of smell. Most subtle of senses, I think. I sometimes realize that I have been reacting to a scent even before I am consciously aware of it. Like a dream, where you don’t always grasp what is happening until just after it has happened.
5. Persephone rises. She always does. Her purple footprints are singing aves in the flowerbeds.
May we walk in Beauty!