The breeze a sigh,
as Creation catches a breath
on a busy day.
Like me
on the front porch,
feet propped on a peeling post,
body slouched into a worn wooden rocker.
My eyes trace familiar swells
of hill and valley,
seek movement behind dips in the earth.
Turkey, deer, and cattle—spotted
as they search
the fragrant sod.
My thoughts, free
to wander
as my gaze…
neither
here nor there,
to scan pillows of white
and sheets of blue,
to follow a wild goose
in honking flight.
Such joys, this living…
gentle as
my breath in unison
with breezes
that lift
green leaves on trees
and play with strands of my hair.
No comments:
Post a Comment