POETRY

 

The clarity of early morning

The unruffled flat surface of a remote isolated pond

The thoughts come slowly

Deliberately

As I watch the silent silhouette of a bird in flight

Traverse over both pond and pine

Traverse over the slow blossoming

Of awareness

Awareness

That I do not choose the words

I do not choose the poetry

The words

The poetry

Chooses

Decides

Evaluates

Our forested and wild virgin surroundings

For us both

I

As I sit here in the magical first light of morning

Am simply a messenger

My hands cup the thoughts

Still dripping with the fluid of birth

I gently place them on the blank page

A small stain

They move slightly

Then are still

Still and motionless forever more

The thoughts…are now words

I pull my head back slightly

Holding the page up to the light

An early morning wind-swept riffle sweeps across the pond

“Oh…”

So that is

What Is

I must consider this

Heed

Listen

To the slow blossoming awareness

 

I do not choose the words

I do not choose the poetry

The poetry

Chooses

Decides

What Is

What is today

 

Love and awe

At the simple beauty of the path

At the simple beauty

Of our existence

I watch a solitary silhouette

Fly over the unruffled flat surface of a remote isolated pond

Fly over both pond and pine

 

Destined for unseen country

Destined for tomorrow