Saturday, 4 November 2017

Early summer

When I don't know where to contain all the song
that the cardinals, wrens and robins sing.
When I'm sure that green has evolved into some new color
that holds the absolute all of everything.

When I am caressed by the cool of a forest wetland breeze
that kisses my sensitive neck.
When I touch the iridescence of a jeweled iris
that leaves a sparkling speck.

When it is almost too too much.

That is when I pause in the quieting space
between this heartbeat and the next.

To open my heart, to allow the grateful tears to start.

So, tell me what of this life's gifts?
Can they be measured by any ruler
or scales with a balanced bereft?

To be able to hold it all I must first let it go.
For held within is a compassionate Divine flow.
When the realize of this truth dawns again and again,
it is as if each breath is truly a gift with no end.

mj 5.27.17 poem and photo

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